Resurrection
by acata
Summary: When Hermione finds out her parents are dead, she throws herself into work. During her research, she finds a journal written by the apprentice of the man who created the Veil. HG/SB
1. Chapter 1

**Resurrection**

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter's world is property of J.K Rowling and her publishers. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made.

**Chapter 1**

_July, 1999_

Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place covered in dust.

In spite of still being Unplottable, Grimmauld Place had been added to the Floo Network, months after the War. However, no updates had been made, so the fireplace was as old as the house. This made most people who were invited to Grimmauld Place prefer to use the front door.

"Stupid old fireplace. I'll have to warn Harry that--" she started murmuring. She never finished the sentence. She made the same mistake Nymphadora Tonks had done uncountable times when Grimmauld Place was the Headquarters of the Order; she tripped over the umbrella stand made from a _disgusting_ severed leg of a troll and fell on her knees.

Before she had the time to rise from the floor and cast an Evanesco to get rid of all the dust that covered her, Walburga Black's huge portrait started screaming obscenities and insults at the top of her lungs.

"_Oops,_" said Hermione.

Hermione walked toward the portrait hidden by the new black velvety curtains Mrs. Weasley had bought when the original ones were no longer acceptable and looked at the old woman with a bit of disgust. She couldn't help but wonder how a woman like _that_ had given birth to a man like Sirius Black. Her face stretched horribly as she screamed insults toward Hermione. Fearing she'd lose her hearing if she didn't act soon, Hermione murmured a Silencio and almost laughed at the scowl present on the woman's yellowish face.

Just as she turned, intending to find her friends, Ginny came rushing from the first floor. When she saw Hermione, she let out a breath of relief and walked toward her to give her a hug.

"You know…you'll have to find a way to take that bloody thing from the wall"

Hermione chuckled. "You do know the _Permanent Sticking Charm_ is very _hard_ to reverse, right?"

"Hermione, you're the brightest witch of our age! Do something! We can't keep her silent forever."

"Why not?"

"Her sight is _disturbing,_" Ginny said, waving her hands dramatically.

Hermione chuckled, "Yes, I believe that's one of the reasons there is a curtain hiding the portrait. Anyway, where are Ron and Harry?" Hermione asked, looking over Ginny's shoulder, as if expecting them to pop in front of her at any moment.

"Upstairs."

"Oh, I'll go to the library then" Hermione said, walking toward the stairs.

"I wouldn't go in there, Kingsley is with them." Ginny informed, knowing very well that Kingsley didn't like to be disturbed when he was speaking with Harry and Ron or with anyone else for that matter.

"Oh," Hermione murmured. "Do you think they will be there for long?"

"What? You can't stand the thought of other people touching your precious books?" asked Ginny, smirking. "Or maybe just the fact that they're standing in your library is making you anxious"

"Don't be silly, Ginny," Hermione said, smiling. "It's not my library," she said, not negating anything else. "I just need to speak with the three of you…Don't worry. It's nothing terrible," she added when she saw Ginny's worried expression.

"So, should we wait in the living room?"

"By that I can conclude they're going to be in there for a long time."

"You never know with them," Ginny said. "Come; let's not stand in this narrow corridor. We barely have space to ourselves!"

While they headed to the living room, Hermione couldn't stop thinking of the things that had happened since Voldemort's defeat.

Kingsley had become Minister of Magic. He had invited Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione to join him in the apprehension of what was left of Voldemort's followers and in the reformation of the different institutions of the Ministry. Even though Hermione had wished to help them, first she had wanted to complete her seventh year at Hogwarts and take her NEWTs. This hadn't been a surprise to anyone and despite still being just a student, Kingsley had asked her to protect her fellow students in case something happened. She accepted, proud he trusted her.

At first, being in Hogwarts without most of her friends had been extremely hard. Fortunately, Ginny had been there with her, and she finally discovered what was like to be good friends with girls – something which had been impossible in the previous years – and the year had seemed more tolerable. But now it was over, she had recently completed her education at Hogwarts outstandingly, and to be completely honest with herself, Hermione was afraid. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to do.

"So, what did you want to tell us?" Ginny asked.

Hermione smiled at her impatient friend. "You'll know soon enough"

"You know I hate to wait. Particularly when I have to wait for my beloved brother and my boyfriend. Ah, Merlin forbid they stay in there for one more hour--"

"We didn't take _that_ long," said a deep, slow voice behind them.

Hermione turned to face the owner of the voice and smiled when she saw Kingsley.

Ginny blushed slightly when she realized Kingsley had heard her. "No, no, _you_ haven't," she murmured.

"Hello, Hermione," Kingsley said.

"Hello, Minister. It's good to see you," Hermione replied.

Kingsley narrowed his eyes at her and said, with his slow voice, "It's Kingsley. You know that."

"_Kingsley,_" Hermione repeated, imitating his deep tone of voice.

He flashed her a smile. "It's good to see you finally out of Hogwarts. So, what are you going to do? Any chance you'd honour us with your presence at the Ministry of Magic?"

"I still don't know what I'm going to do--" Hermione started, but she was interrupted by Ron and Harry, who entered in the living room.

Harry chuckled at her answer. "That's the problem of being outstanding at pretty much everything"

"_Pretty much_ everything? What can't she do?" Ron asked. "Besides winning at chess and playing Quidditch?" he mocked, sticking his tongue at her in a childish manner, while she narrowed her eyes at him, threatening him silently.

"_Finally_!" Ginny exploded, crossing her arms on her chest. "I thought you two had decided to sleep in there. Hermione won't tell me whatever she has to say, because you two weren't here."

"Chill out, Gin," Ron said, ruffling her hair, which only made her glare at him. "So, 'Mione, _which_ position would you really like at the Ministry?"

"As I said a couple of seconds ago, _Ronald_, I still _don't_ know. And who said I'd be accepted anyway?" she asked, glancing at Kingsley, who snorted.

"I think I might have something for you" he said, his dark eyes studying her.

"I'll worry about that when I return from Australia," she said, trying to look like she wasn't excited about such prospect, even though it was visible that she was pleased he would find a suitable position for her.

"You're going to Australia?" Ron asked, confused.

"I believe that's what I just said. Honestly, Ron, sometimes you astound me."

"There's no need to insult me…" he mumbled.

She grinned. "I wasn't, actually. I need to bring my parents back to England," she explained.

"So you found them," Harry said. "Well, I'd ask if you want us to go with you, but I know you'll want to do that alone…especially since it might take a while for your parents to…_erm_…"

Suddenly the air in the living room became heavy. No one knew exactly what to say. "I know," murmured Hermione, avoiding any visual contact with her friends. "I hope they can forgive me for changing their memories."

"Oh, Hermione, you saved their lives…they'll forgive you," Ginny said, touching Hermione's arm, trying to comfort her.

"When are you going?" Ron asked.

"Today. I have a Portkey programmed to take me to Australia at 17.52," she said, glancing at the watch on her left wrist. "I have to go to the Department of Magical Transportation, though," she said, sighing. "I better go to the Ministry now…"

"I'll accompany you," Kingsley said. "I have to go to the Ministry anyway."

"Why didn't they just give you the authorization to create a Portkey? They wouldn't have to trouble themselves…" asked Ginny, slightly confused.

"They said they'd create one for me so that I can be transported to the equivalent Department in Australia. It's easier to regulate the traffic of people this way. It's been like that since Kingsley helped reform the Ministry," Hermione explained, smiling at the intelligent man who had done it. "_Hmm_, okay. My bag is here. Shall we go, Kingsley?"

"I'll go first," he said. "Harry, Ron, we'll continue our discussion tomorrow. Ginny, it's always good to see you," he said, nodding his bald head before grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, throwing it, stepping into the bright green flames and disappearing.

"The man surely _can_ make a dramatic exit," Ginny commented, staring at the place Kingsley had been seconds before.

"_Ginny_!" Ron and Harry cried.

"What?" Ginny asked innocently. When the boys dismissed it, she winked at Hermione, who shook her head in amusement before disappearing through the green flames.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_July, 1999_

"Welcome!" a wizard in red robes cried when she fell on her bottom. She really was becoming dangerously clumsy. Then again, she had never been able to use Portkeys properly. She blamed her slight fear of heights.

"Hello," she greeted, rising from the floor the second time that day. Or maybe not. She glanced at the huge clock on the wall and sighed. For a second she had forgotten about the time difference.

"Can I help you, miss?" the blue eyed man asked, returning to his position behind the counter.

"Good Ni—Morning? Anyway…I requested a Portkey to Perth and I'd like to know when it'll be activated."

Suddenly, a notebook appeared in the air. The man grabbed it and looked over the place where the hours were written attentively. "Your name, miss?" he asked without looking at her.

"Hermione Granger."

Right after she pronounced her name, the notebook turned blue and then the pages started turning quickly, until they stopped and one turned bright green.

"Here it is. Granger, Hermione, From the _Department of Magical Transportation_ in the Ministry of Magic, London, England. Your Portkey to Canberra was activated at 17.52; you left at 17.55 and arrived at your destination at 17.58. You brought only one bag with you." He looked at her and when he saw the bag, he turned to the paper again. "Everything seems alright. Your Portkey to Perth will be activated in three hours. You also requested a Portkey to take you to the Portkey area in Rosalie Park. Is that correct?"

"Yes, that is right; thank you"

He smiled. "Great. You'll have to go to the floor above to go to Western Australia. Door 17. "

"Thank you," she said, before turning and heading to the elevator she had seen when she arrived.

"Miss Granger?" the man called.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, turning her head in the direction of the wizard.

"I know you have three hours until your Portkey is activated, but you might want to use the elevator at your left. If you use the one on the right, I'm afraid it will take you to another Department," he said, his eyes bright with amusement. "And then you would get lost and we would have to call security. You would probably be late to your Portkey and that would be quite unpleasant, don't you think?" he finished, still smiling.

"Of course. Thank you again."

"Have a good flight!" he joked.

_**H**_

When Hermione finally arrived at Rosalie Park, it was almost noon. She had taken almost two hours to make a special request so that she'd have another Portkey to London the next day. This time, instead of needing to go to Canberra, she'd go to London directly from Perth. Obviously she'd have to remember to confirm the two Portkeys at least four hours before she would use one.

She walked toward Arthur Street, where her parents' house was located. Only recently she had found the exact place where they lived. She hadn't wanted to know where their house was located, because she could have been forced to say where they were during the War, and that might have cost them their lives.

When she located her parent's house, she walked to its doorstep, took a deep breath and knocked on the white door. Since no one answered, she knocked again, this time harder. When it was obvious there was no one in the house, she decided to sit at the doorstep and wait for her parents. Surely, they would have to come home eventually. What would they think when they found a girl they didn't know on their doorstep? And how exactly was she going to explain? Maybe it would be better to cast the spell, which would reverse the Memory Charm she had used years ago, from afar, and then wait for their reactions. Would they forgive her? Would they believe her when she explained that it was for their own protection? That it was the only thing that crossed her mind that would efficiently protect them from the War?

When three hours had passed without either of her parents returning home, she almost thought of going inside the house with magic's help to see if something had happened. She never had time to do more than think about it. She saw a kind faced blonde woman walking toward her parent's house.

When she was almost on the doorstep where Hermione was sitting, she stopped and asked, in a way that made Hermione think of Molly Weasley, "Can I help you?"

"I'm just waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins…" Hermione said, a bit uncertain. It was pretty obvious the woman knew her parents; she just didn't know _how well_ she did, so she would have to be careful.

The woman's face softened when Hermione mentioned their names. "Oh," the woman said, and bit her lip as if thinking very hard over something.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, dear," she said, with a soothing voice.

Hermione blinked in confusion before something crossed her mind. "Oh! They're not here, right? Ah, well, I guess I could try another day…" she said, rising from the step of the entrance.

"No, dear," the woman said quickly.

"Don't they live here?" Hermione asked, starting to feel anxious. If they had moved to another place, it would take a day or two to find them and she couldn't possibly afford staying in Australia more than two days. This was already her second day here.

The woman frowned. "Oh…" she murmured. "I don't exactly know how to say this, since I don't know your relation to them--"

"I'm their niece," Hermione answered, before she had the time to think over a proper excuse. What had they told the woman exactly?

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed. "Oh, dear…They never mentioned they had relatives, so I assumed that… they didn't have any… or maybe they didn't talk to them anymore…" the woman said, more to herself than to Hermione.

"Uh…we were not very close," Hermione said, surprised at how accurate it sounded.

"Nevertheless," she said, after a deep sigh. "It must come as a shock to you…"

Hermione looked at the woman attentively. "What, exactly, will be a shock?"

The woman bit her lip and looked at Hermione's feet. "I…Well, they had a car accident, dear…"

"A car accident? Are they...Are they _dead_?" Hermione asked, her voice surprisingly calm for the situation.

The woman looked at her sadly and nodded. Maybe there was a bit of surprise or confusion in her look. Hermione could only imagine what the woman was thinking.

"When?" Hermione finally asked.

"Well, it was in October…that makes…eight months ago".

Hermione gasped slightly. Eight months ago, the War had already ended. She had been a Hogwarts, finishing her last year. Sure, there had still been Death Eaters and other Voldemort supporters to apprehend, so it hadn't been completely safe for them to return, but certainly there would have been a way to protect her parents if she had gone to Australia sooner… A hand on her shoulder made Hermione stop her train of thought and look at the woman before her.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have told you like this…Come with me. I'll give you something to eat…My name is Felicity White, by the way," the woman said starting to walk toward the house on the right of Hermione's parents'. "What is your name, dear?"

"Uh…Hermione," she said. "I'm…I'm not really hungry, thank you…"

"Oh do come on in," the woman said, waving her hand.

Hermione sighed. "Okay" she said, following Mrs. White to her house.

She entered in the woman's house and followed her to the kitchen, feeling slightly anxious because of her surroundings. She had been in the magical world for so long she started feeling unsure if she would be able to protect herself from an attack.

_What attack? No one is going to attack you. You're obviously not well, Hermione_, she thought.

"Would you like to drink something?" asked Mrs. White, tapping one of the chairs as if to tell Hermione to sit there.

"A glass of water would be fine, thank you," Hermione said, taking the seat.

"So, when was the last time you saw your uncle and aunt?" the woman asked, filling a glass with water.

"Hmm…before they came to Australia"

Mrs. White sighed and gave Hermione the glass. "That's when I met them…my husband is a dentist, so it was easy to start meeting Monica and Wendell every once in a while…they never talked about their relatives, though. It was like they didn't remember them…"

Hermione drank half of the water before asking, "Are they buried near here?"

Mrs. White, who had been looking at the floor, absorbed in thought, turned her head to Hermione. "Oh, no, no, dear, they're not in the cemetery…" Mrs. White bit her lip. "They weren't buried, they were cremated," she said.

Hermione looked at her, surprised. She would have never guessed her parents would wish that. Then again, Monica and Wendell weren't her parents. "And…and…and the ashes?"

"They were thrown away, darling. Near the place they died"

Hermione drank the remaining water and rose from the chair.

"Excuse me…do you mind if I use the bathroom?"

"Of course, dear! It's at the end of the corridor," Mrs. White said.

When Hermione was inside the small bathroom, she washed her face. After she dried it, she looked at her reflection. She wasn't flushed, as it happened when she cried. Her face was so pale; it made the contrast between her skin and the few freckles in the bridge of her nose more prominent than ever. Her hair was a mess, but that was no surprise. Her eyes were as they had always been. Maybe just a bit cooler and less bright than before, but they had been like that since people she cared about started dying. They weren't red from crying though, as they _should be_.

She took a deep breath and looked at her reflection as if it were some one else. _What is wrong with you? Your parents died. They died. They died. You should be crying, shouting how unfair it is._ _How can you be so calm?_

She stopped chastising her reflection when she heard someone closing the front door noisily. She should leave. She couldn't stay in there. There was nothing to do there. No parents to return to. No bodies to bury. Mrs. White had been nice enough to her and she had probably just managed to remind her of bad memories.

Hermione opened the door silently and walked to the kitchen. Before she reached the door, she heard two voices from the kitchen.

"Are you sure she's her niece?" a male voice asked. The person who had closed the door minutes ago was probably Mr. White and from the conversation they seemed to be having, Mrs. White had explained her husband why a girl could come up from the bathroom at any moment.

"I can't be one hundred per cent sure, obviously, but she kind of looks like Monica. You know, with that bushy hair Monica used to have."

The man sighed, "And how is she?"

"She said she was fine…"

"Well, she probably didn't know them well enough."

"I don't know…but it's preoccupying…I think she's in shock."

"Maybe."

"Oh, I hope she isn't in shock. I wouldn't like to be around her when she finally explodes," Mrs. White said, in a strangled voice.

Hermione decided she had eavesdropped enough and returned silently to the bathroom, pretended to open the door and walked toward the kitchen in her normal pace.

When she entered the kitchen, she was immediately greeted by Mr. White, a man with white hair and moustache.

"Would you like to stay for the night, dear? Or do you have somewhere to stay?" Mrs. White asked kindly.

"No, thank you, I have a flight to London in a couple of hours, so I'll be leaving now,"

"Oh…"

"Yes, I just came for a visit but--"

"Oh! Before I forget," Mrs. White said. She walked to the living room, opened a drawer and took an envelope from there.

"Inside this envelope are the keys to your uncle's house and clinic. You might want to talk with the rest of your relatives about their death and discuss what to do with this," Mrs. White said, handing the envelope to Hermione.

"Thank you, Mrs. White. For everything."

The woman sighed and started walking toward the entrance. "Oh, it was nothing," she said, opening the door to Hermione.

"Goodbye," Hermione said, before walking toward Rosalie Park, where she could Apparate to Perth's Central Department. From there, she could use a Portkey to return to London.

_**H**_

Hermione was going to accept Harry's invitation to live in Grimmauld Place. She would be ashamed to admit that the main reason she would accept was because she was now a homeless, jobless, young, Muggle-born witch.

When she arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, she looked at the clock: _10.32_. "Great," she murmured. "This is officially the longest day of my entire life."

She heard someone chuckling and turned to face the person.

"Welcome back!" Harry said, intending to hug Hermione but she avoided it. She was actually afraid that any demonstration of kindness from someone she loved would be enough for her to explode, like Mrs. White had said.

Harry frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"Harry… Can I still move in--?"

"Of course!" he cried, smiling widely. "It's terrible to be alone here, you know. Ah, I know Ron and Ginny are always here, but they have to return to the Burrow every night so it'll be great to have someone around," he said excitedly. When Hermione only gave him a nod, he asked "Is everything okay? Did your parents---"

"Which one will be my bedroom?" she asked, turning her back to him and starting to walk toward the stairs.

"_Erm_…whichever you want…except, of course--"

"I know, Harry," Hermione said, smiling. "And I wouldn't choose any of those…I swear that room still has Buckbeak's smell and I don't think I'd be able to sleep with it. Also...green and silver with the Black crest and their _Toujours Pur,_ or red and gold and half naked women and motorcycles aren't exactly my style either"

Harry smiled, seeming to relax at her mockery.

"You know, I think the room with the black wooden secretary would be perfect for me," Hermione said.

"On the third floor? The room which used to be haunted by famished doxies?"

Hermione chuckled. "Yes, that one"

"Okay, then. When will you move in for good?"

"_Hmm_…tomorrow?"

"Great,"

"Can I go to the room now? I'll clean it and prepare it for the things I'll have to bring," Hermione said, leaving Harry in the hallway.

Two hours later, Hermione had cleaned every single inch of the room and had planned where and how her things would be kept.

"Do you need help?" asked Harry from the doorway.

When Hermione didn't answer, Harry walked toward her and stopped in front of her.

"Hermione," Harry said. "What happened? Honestly, tell me. Didn't your parents forgive you? If you want I can go talk to them with you--"

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes hard as rocks. When she answered him, she couldn't help but regret how controlled her voice was.

"My parents are dead, Harry."

Harry's jaw dropped. After a minute in silence, he was going to say something, but Hermione was faster and before he could try to console her, she said, "I am fine. Just leave me alone for a moment…I need to think."

Harry nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Hermione to her thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_July__, 1999_

It took Hermione one day to bring her things from her parents' to Grimmauld Place and two days to arrange everything in the way she had planned. She hadn't had anyone's help because both harry and Ron were too busy in their training for Aurors, Ginny had been training Quidditch with the junior team of the Holyhead Harpies and she wouldn't have dared to ask Mrs. Weasley for help. She would have wanted it decorated her way.

Her room was one of the smallest of the house. She had chosen it because since she didn't have many things, she wouldn't need a big room. The only things which would occupy more space were her books, but she would only keep some of them in her bedroom, in the narrow bookshelf near the window. Her other books, those she didn't read or need frequently, would be placed in the library of the house.

The bed had been another reason for her choice. She adored the little cupola it had, from which a white curtain she had recently bought fell.

She was pretty certain her room hadn't been someone's chambers for a long time, especially since she had found a chamber pot under the bed when she had cleaned every inch of the room. Maybe it had been the room of some child or maybe a guest room – even if she didn't think the Blacks had had many guests while they were alive.

When she had finished arranging everything in her room, she headed to the first floor, to the library. Everyone thought her favourite room in the whole house was the library – and _sometimes_, it was -, but she had always been completely fascinated with the drawing room, with its big windows overlooking the street and, especially, with the Black family tree tapestry.

Most people never really appreciated that room. When Hermione, Harry and Ron had slept in that room when they were hiding from the Ministry, years ago, she had started talking about the magic the tapestry contained, but the boys hadn't understood or cared about her thoughts on the tapestry. She thought it was fascinating. She knew it contained very complex magic and she thought it also had a bit of Dark Magic too - which wasn't at all a surprise -, especially because the names of the _traitors_ were burned magically and almost instantaneously. Like Andromeda's name. Hermione knew her name had been added and she had seen a black spot on the place her name had been before Andromeda had decided to marry Ted Tonks, a muggle-born wizard.

When she reached the library, which was, with no doubt, the most comfortable and relaxing place in the house, with its Victorian settees and very light, silky curtains. While she sorted the books (first on theme, then alphabetically and finally the year it had been published) she couldn't help but wonder how much the room had been used by the Blacks. She didn't imagine most of them liking the environment of the library. It probably had too much light for them. She was sure, though, that if Sirius Black had been a book lover, he would have loved the environment of the library, just like she did. Sadly, one of the only decent people of the Black family hadn't seemed _too_ interested in their books.

When she finished adding her books to the bookshelf she had bought to the Black's library and when she turned to walk back to her room, she found Harry on the doorstep, looking at her intently, which made her wonder if he had already told someone about her parents' death.

She quickly glanced at the wooden clock on the wall and looked curiously at Harry. "You're early."

He chuckled. "Are you already controlling me?"

"Ah. You wish, Mr. Potter. How was it today? You _don't_ look tired. I should send a letter to the Head of your Department, informing him trainees don't seem to be training enough." Hermione mocked.

"Very funny, Hermione. If you knew how much they make us do, you'd be surprised. Anyway, I wanted to tell you before you disappear into your room again…" he said, regretting it instantaneously when he saw she looked rather guilty at that "The Weasleys and Kingsley are coming for dinner tomorrow"

"Oh, for your birthday?" she asked, making a mental note to buy him a present.

He nodded, smiling, as if he was secretly pleased she hadn't forgotten despite what had happened in the last week.

"Have you told them about my parents?" Hermione asked.

The smile disappeared from his face. "No… I didn't know if you wanted to be the one saying or… something like that."

"Good. I won't be telling them… at least not soon. If I told them before your birthday dinner, they would probably feel uncomfortable in my presence… And I don't want to be responsible for destroying the mood of your dinner."

"Hermione, they'll find it out eventually,"

"I know, but I really, _really_ can't be comforted by Mrs. Weasley... or any of the Weasleys. They would instantaneously realise there is something wrong with me"

"What?" Harry asked, looking astonished at her. "There's nothing wrong with you!"

"I think there is."

He sighed. "Hermione, honestly… if you're talking about the whole thing of not being depressed around the house or something like that… well, you know very well that not everyone reacts the same way to the… the death of someone we love--"

"I know that. _But_ I cried in Dumbledore's funeral. I cried for Remus and Tonks and Fred. I even cried for Teddy because he will never meet his parents… and I cried for George. I even cried for _Dobby_. How can't there be something wrong? They were my _parents_"

Harry shook his head, looking frustrated. "Fine. Think whatever you wish, but this time I'm the one who's right… and you'll realise that… someday. Maybe."

"What will you realise someday? Who are you talking to anyway? Is Hermione there?" asked Ron, who peeked to the inside of the library.

"Oh, hullo, there." He said when he saw Hermione. "Finally I see you! I come to Grimmauld Place almost every day and it's like you don't live here"

Hermione raised one of her eyebrows. "I never realised you came, which is surprising. Normally, whenever you are inside a building, you make more noise than a banshee"

He gaped at her. "You really should stop mocking me, you know? Someday-- someday I might mock you too" he said, seriously, which, instead of making Hermione consider his words, as he probably had intended, only made her snort.

"Awh, Ron, you know I'm joking. Besides, it's one of the only joys in my life right now. You wouldn't want to take that away from me, would you?"

"Okay… when you say it like that it makes it less insulting" he said, looking pleased with what she had said. Then, suddenly, he seemed to have remembered something. "Oi! Have you gotten a letter from the Ministry?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked at him puzzled. "What? I didn't even know I was going to receive one…"

"Eh, Kingsley mentioned you were going to receive a letter from a specific Department."

Hermione looked at him interested. Maybe Kingsley had found a job for her. "Did he mention which Department would send the letter?" she asked. She really didn't mind working in any Department. She didn't know what to do anyway. Although, she wished the work would include _a_ _lot_ of research.

"Nope." Ron said, shaking his red head. "I did ask him, though… But he laughed at me…"

Harry looked amused. "Well, he probably wanted it to be a surprise for Hermione, and if he had told you, you would have ended up telling her"

"I wouldn't have!"

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and started laughing.

"I swear I _wouldn't_!" Ron kept saying, his ears about the same shade as his hair.

**H**

When Ron left Grimmauld Place, Hermione bid Harry good night and went to her room. When she closed the door, she heard something tapping at her window. She turned and walked towards it, finding a black owl, with the biggest, yellowest eyes she had ever seen. She opened the window and greeted him.

The owl immediately flew to the inside and alighted on the table, making some papers fly and fall on the floor. The owl made a strange, deep sound, which Hermione interpreted as an apology.

"You're handsome" Hermione said, looking at the owl, after putting the papers in a safer place.

The owl stretched his neck and slightly opened his wings, while making a slightly higher pitched sound.

Hermione chuckled. "What do you have for me?"

The owl quickly offered his leg so that Hermione could have access to the envelope. Hermione noticed the envelope was dark blue, and while she was taking it from the bird's leg, Hermione saw her name written in gold, in a spiky handwriting.

_Hermione Jean Granger_

_Number 12__, Grimmauld Place _

_London, England_

Hermione frowned, not recognising the handwriting, but then, she remembered Ron saying she would receive a letter from the Ministry. When she finally took it from the owl's leg, Hermione almost ripped it when she turned it so she could see who had sent it. Her heart skipped a beat when she read:

_Department of Mysteries_

_Level 9, Ministry of Magic_

_London, England_

She glanced at the owl and she found his yellow eyes gawking at her, as if he was expecting something.

"I think I may have something for you," Hermione said, momentarily forgetting the letter and opened one of the drawers of her secretary and taking two cookies and giving them to the owl. "I don't know if you like them, but it's all I have here". The owl hooted in response and started taking small bits of them into his mouth.

She unfolded the letter with shaky hands and read:

_July, 30, 1999_

_Miss Granger,_

_Every year, t__he Department of Mysteries opens its doors to a determined number of wizards and witches, who proved being outstanding at most of the subjects of study of this Department._

_This year, we would like to have your presence at the meeting, which will take place on the ninth level of the Ministry of Magic, London, on 31 July 1999._

_We look forward to your participation in the project. _

_Sincerely,_

_William Geheim,_

_Head of the Department of Mysteries_

When she finished reading, she could only gape at the golden words. She didn't exactly know what the meeting would be about or if she would get the job in the Department of Mysteries, but at least she had a chance and that was one of the best things that had happened in quite some time. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God." she mumbled. Any feeling of happiness suddenly disappear when she realised the meeting would be on the following day. She didn't have any time to research about the Department and she would never find anything related to their objects of study in just a couple of hours. And she also had Harry's birthday dinner and she still had to buy him something and… The high-pitched sound of the owl made Hermione jolt out of her reverie. When she looked inquiringly at him, the owl made another high-pitched sound and flew away.

_Well, I guess they don't expect me to an__swer… _Hermione thought.

Hermione quickly walked to the door of her bedroom and opened it.

"Harry?" she called, from the doorstep. When there was no answer she went to the second floor, where his room was. She knocked on the door and a couple of seconds later she saw the doorknob in the shape of a serpent rotate until its head was upside down and then, with a jerk movement, back to its normal position.

"Hermione? Do you need something? Did something happen?" he asked, looking worried.

"I just received a letter from the Ministry!" she said, waving the letter in front of him. "I have a meeting tomorrow. But apparently I wasn't the only person invited so it might take a while… I don't know if I'll arrive on time for your dinner…" she said and bit her lip, while she waited for him to say something.

"Oh, that's okay" he said, smiling. "Don't worry about that. And I won't let Ron eat everything so you don't have to rush," he added, winking at her.

She chuckled. "Thank you, Harry."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _This chapter hasn't been edited yet._

* * *

**Chapter ****4**

_July, 1999_

Hermione arrived at the atrium of the Ministry Headquarters via Floo. She thanked the fact that she only seemed to get dust all over her robes and hair when she travelled _to_ Grimmauld Place, and not when she travelled _from_ there. She really needed to talk with Harry about it. She didn't understand why he hadn't done anything about it yet. After all, he used the Floo Network every day to go to the Ministry. Surely he had been covered with dust.

She walked along the large hall without paying much attention to the decoration of the atrium and when she reached the golden gates at the end of the hall, she greeted the old watchwizard, Eric Munch, who pretty much ignored her, except when he asked for her wand and opened the gates so that she could have access to the lifts.

She had decided to go to the headquarters of the Ministry half an hour earlier, avoiding the chaos that would take place in lifts and fireplaces during the lunch break. She suspected that that had been one of the reasons the meeting would start at midday.

Getting inside one of the lifts, Hermione pressed the button with an engraved _9_ and, with an unpleasant sound, the lift rapidly descended to the level below the atrium.

When the doors opened, she walked through the bare corridor, which led her to the black door that gave her access to the Department of Mysteries.

She opened the door and she found herself in a circular room with twelve, identical black doors. She expected the walls to start rotating rapidly, as it had happened when she and some of the members of the Dumbledore's Army had gone to the Ministry of Magic, seeking Sirius, but that didn't happen. She understood why when she saw an open door on her right side. The walls wouldn't rotate as long as one of the doors was open. She was a bit puzzled since she had initially thought the doors had to be all closed, in order to be able to open another.

_Well, that makes everything easier._ Hermione thought, walking to the door and into the room.

During her last visit to the Department of Mysteries, in her fifth year, she had never been inside that particular room.

As the hall, this room was completely bare, except for a counter on the centre of the room and two white doors; one on the left side of the counter, the other on the right.

"Good morning!" the witch behind the counter said cheerfully. "Oh, I'm glad you didn't get lost. Just a hour ago the door was accidentally closed and a wizard, Mr. Whitehorn, entered in the wrong room. Aw, well… Your name and business here, please?" she asked, holding a red quill on her hands.

"Hermione Granger. I have a meeting with the Head of the Department"

"One moment, please" the woman murmured, searching Hermione's name in a list. When se found it, the woman wrote her name on a rectangular piece of paper, which was transformed into a badge when she finished writing.

"You can access to the meeting room though the door on your left" the witch informed her, smiling and handing the badge to Hermione. "Please wear it as long as you are in this Department. If you get lost, this will tell us where you are."

Hermione thanked and walked to the door on the left. She entered in the room, which was very similar to an auditorium, but she was sure she only thought that because of the disposition of the seats, and was surprised to see that around thirty people were already there. She quickly looked around her and she noticed there were actually some tables, chairs bookshelves and a magical blackboard against the wall, so it was probably some sort of classroom.

She sat in one of the chairs in the front row and took a notebook and a quill from her bag and waited. In the way to the seat she had chosen she had came across some wizards and witches who had studies at Hogwarts, a year or two ahead of her, but she didn't recall any of their names.

When the clock on the wall struck midday, one door on the opposite side of the room, near the blackboard, burst open and seven cloaked figures entered in the room. One of them stood in front of the others and she suspected he was the Head of the Department. One of the six behind him locked the door, so that no one would come in. It was then that Hermione realised she wouldn't be allowed to be a minute late if she was accepted. She also noticed that there was only one woman in the group behind the leader.

"Good evening," the one Hermione suspected was the leader said. "I am William Geheim, Head of the Department of Mysteries. The wizards you see behind me are some of the Unspeakables who work in this Department." He cleared his throat. "You are here because you are possible candidates to the three available positions we have as Unspeakables."

"As you probably realised by now, wizards and witches don't choose to work for the Department of Mysteries. They are _chosen_ by us. Normally, it is the Head of the Department who invites wizards and witches to work for this Department. However, there has been some cases in which they are _suggested_ by someone in a higher position … and that means the Ministry of Magic." he said, making a pause in his speech, which made Hermione think that perhaps he didn't agree with the fact that the Ministry could have the final word on the matter.

"You were chosen because you proved to possess brilliant minds and finished your studies outstandingly in subjects like Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and History of Magic. All these subjects will be _fundamental_ if you are one of the chosen, so what you learnt about these subjects will be necessary for you to prove that you deserve the position."

"There isn't a fixed period of time for you to learn the particular skills to be an Unspeakable. In the end, what you know and what you did will be the only things I'll need to choose three of you. Meanwhile, so that I can actually choose some of you, you will be given assignments, mostly researches on a determined object on the Department of Mysteries. You'll be expected to know what was discovered so far about your study object and you will be expected to find additional information on them. The first step of your work will be the said research. For that, you may use any books in the _**un**__restricted_ area of Library of the Ministry. The second step will be on the field. You will be analysing the object itself, with an Unspeakable as supervisor. The third step will be theorizing about the object. If you haven't found any new information on it, you should describe a theory of your own. Finally, you will deliver me a report in which you will describe _everything_ you did and discovered." While he talked he walked in the room, sometimes looking at an apprentice in particular. Then, with a sharp movement, he went to the centre of the room again.

"Any questions?" he asked, in a way that made Hermione wonder that he really didn't want to be bothered with questnions.

On the opposite side of the room, a witch with dark, long hair raised her hand, looking slightly unsure. She was probably thinking if that was the correct way to get Mr. Geheim's attention.

"Yes?"

"Sir, what about those who won't be accepted?"

"Those either start thinking about working for another Department or find another kind of job outside the Ministry of Magic." he said, rather harshly.

Most of the wizards and witches in the room started looking curiously (and some a bit hesitantly) around themselves, as if measuring their chances against the people who surrounded them.

In the same row Hermione was seated, a wizard with curly brown hair raised his hand.

"_Yes_?" William Geheim asked.

"Will we be divided into groups or work individually?"

"You will be working individually, _but_ you will also be part of a group. The group will be directed by an Unspeakable and you will answer to him and you will ask for his help and you will write weakly reports and you will give them to him."

"Now, if there are no more questions," he said, scanning the crowd. "Each Unspeakable will call five apprentices. You will follow him, hear what he has to say to you and finally he will give you your object of study. Unless, of course…" he said, looking around the room attentively. "Unless you prefer not to work for this Department. In that way, please leave the room."

The woman Hermione had seen was the first to step forward and call for her apprentices. "Audrey Watkins, Roger Perkins, Melvin Fawcett, Thomas Fletchey, Nicholas Brown".

Those she had called quickly reached the Unspeakable and followed her through the door they had used to enter the room.

A young wizard with long blonde hair stepped next to the Head of the Department and whispered something to him. After a nod from the Head, the Unspeakable called the names of his apprentices, with a deep voice.

"Clarisse Shingleton, Matthew Twiddle, Gavin Whitehorn, Hermione Granger, Jonathan Abbot.

Hermione almost jumped when she heard her name. She raised from her seat and walked to the Unspeakable she would have to answer to from that day on. The moment the last of her group reached him, he turned his back to them and walked to the same door the woman had used before. After that door, they crossed two more doors, until they were lead through a long corridor, with doors on both sides. They stopped in front of the door with the number 9 in it and the name _Tobias Wenlock_ under it. The wizard, Tobias Wenlock, opened it and let them enter in his office first.

Hermione recognised his surname, but she couldn't recall from where, exactly. She had heard it in Hogwarts though. But she knew there were no students with that surname, nor teachers, so she had probably read with it in.

He passed by them and walked to the chair behind the desk. He took off his black coat and threw it to the armchair at the right of the desk.

Hermione quickly glanced around her. The office was very simple. There were only a couple of objects that made her think that she was in Professor Lupin's office, and she didn't think they were there to decorate the office. The desk was very well organised, which pleased Hermione, who already suspected he was excellent at his job.

Then, Hermione looked to her colleagues. She recognised most of their names. Clarisse Shingleton, the black haired girl who had asked the first question, was, with no doubt, the daughter of Gaspard Shingleton, the inventor of the Self-Stirring Cauldron; on the other hand, the guys who had asked the second question, Gaspard Whitehorn was the only son of Devlin Whitehorn, the founder of the Nimbus Racing Broom Company. She only knew that because her best friends were obsessed with Quidditch. Hermione was sure Jonathan Abbot was related to Hannah Abbot, the Hufflepuff student from the same year as Hermione. However, she had never heard of Matthew Twiddle or anyone with that surname.

Tobias Wenlock made three chairs appear, so that everyone could sit while he talked. When they were sat, he started mentioning some of the things the Head of the Department had already said, but he specified each of them. They were mostly related to the way their work would be.

"Will we be able to choose what we're going to study?" Gaspard Whitehorn asked.

Tobias raised an eyebrow.

"No. I don't think you are aware of half of the things this Department contains so that would make no sense. Besides, each of you was _magically_ chosen to the object of your study"

"Like the Goblet of Fire?" Clarisse Shingleton asked, seeming fascinated by the thought.

Tobias turned to her. He tilted his head in thought. "Similar, but no _exactly_ like it."

"The enchantment was the same, however, the purpose and probably the object were different," Hermione said, in a murmur, more to herself than to the group. When she noticed they were all looking at her she bit her lips nervously. She could already see her nickname of know-it-all coming back to haut her.

"Indeed, Miss Granger," Tobias said, looking at her badge. "But we will not discuss the enchantment itself, however fascinating and powerful it is. You already know how you will work, the only thing you need is an object of study."

He made a dramatic pause, on purpose, Hermione could see. She could see the glint in his eyes. She had seen the twins with the same glint in their eyes whenever they were planning yet another prank.

"Well, you were chosen to work in the Death Chamber" he said, looking at them amusedly. Hermione paled. She knew what was kept in the Death Chamber. She knew what they were going to study. "You know, I don't think William, the Head of the Department, as you know, actually expects us to find anything new. The object kept in the Chamber is probably the hardest to understand and to find any new information about."

"What exactly is there in the Death Chamber?" Clarisse asked, curiously.

Hermione saw her male colleagues look at Tobias interested.

"The Veil. You'll start by collecting any information that exists about it. I want it done by the end of the second week of August."

* * *

**A/N: **_Suggestions? Comments? Corrections?_ :)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_This chapter hasn't been edited yet. My beta is having some presonal problems._

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_August, 1999_

"Is everything okay, Harry?"

Harry had been strange since the day after his birthday. At first Hermione had thought that perhaps it had been because he wanted her to tell the Weasleys what happened to her parents, but when he started being furtive in her questions and when he stopped knocking on her door when he arrived from his Auror training, she suspected something had happened.

Ron and Ginny didn't visit so frequently too. Hermione hoped Ron had started working harder in developing his skills to be an Auror, but she actually suspected he was _dating_ someone. Probably Lavander. Hermione didn't think he completely forgot his Hogwarts _sweetheart_; even when Hermione and Ron had momentarily lost all their good sense and dated for three months. It didn't last long, as everyone had hoped, especially Mrs. Weasley. Hermione had decided to leave for her last year at Hogwarts and Ron had started his training as Auror.

Hermione had been rather lucky when she arrived from the meeting in the Ministry to Harry's birthday dinner. That day she had secretly wished the meeting had taken longer, so she wouldn't have to face the Wesleys. So that she wouldn't have to _lie_ to them. She was certain they knew she went to Australia. Ron and Ginny had probably commented that fact the day she left. But Hermione didn't know what they thought had happened… They probably thought Hermione's parents had forgiven her, since she hadn't given any signs of unhappiness or worry or desperation. The only thing that could have been a sign that something had gone wrong was her less frequent presence at the Burrow.

When she had arrived at Grimmauld Place from Diagon Alley, Hermione had walked to the dinning room, in the basement. The moment she entered in the room she found nine Weasleys at the long wooden table. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with George, Ginny, Ron and Percy. Bill and Fleur with their daughter Victoire, who had been born months ago, on the anniversary of the victory over Voldmort. Headmistress McGonnagal had been there too, next to Harry, who had had an empty seat between him and Ron, which was where Hermione had sat.

Mrs. Weasley had been slightly upset, because Kreatcher had wanted to prepare the food, only letting Mrs. Weasley make the dessert, so she didn't pay much attention to Hermione, who, when she suspected Mr. Weasley was going to ask either about her parents or about her meeting (which Hermione wasn't sure if she wanted them to know too… or if she could tell someone), she quickly gave her present to Harry.

Harry had really liked his present. Hermione had bought him a black coat with a permanent shield charm. Obviously, it wasn't going to protect him of everything - not from most curses -, but it would be useful for his future job. It had been expensive, but it wasn't like Hermione was going to expend her money in anything important for her (except books, perhaps…). Ron had immediately expressed the wish to have one of those coats too and Hermione told him she'd give him one, which made him promise to give her a fantastic present.

No one asked about her job or her parents, maybe with a little of help from Harry, who, every time he suspected someone was going to ask something to Hermione, he'd quickly find something to say, and everyone rapidly forgot their questions and talked with Harry.

Hermione had noticed that since that day Harry hadn't been as present as he used to, so she had decided to ask him if something was wrong. She had found him in his room. Surprisingly, he was reading a book in his bed (well, if it had been Ron it would had been _truly_ surprising). When she entered in his room, she cautiously avoided any objects on the floor and sat at the end of his bed. He glanced curiously at her and then finished reading the paragraph, closed the book, and looked at her. "Do you have anything to ask, Hermione?"

"Is everything okay, Harry?"

He looked surprised.

"Everything is fine, Hermione…" he said, opening the book again and pretending to read.

"Come on, Harry… You know you can tell me anything," Hermione said, starting to feel worried. He was trying to sound natural, but Hermione had always been able to know when he was pretending.

He sighed and looked away, to the window. "I've been having some strange dreams…"

Hermione gasped. "Oh, Harry!"

"I didn't-- I… They aren't exactly _bad_ dreams… Not like those I had before…"

Hermione felt a bit more relaxed and waited for him to tell her about his dreams, but when the only thing he did in a minute was to look at the window, she asked "How long have you been having these dreams?"

"Since around my birthday, I think" he answered, still not looking at her.

"What did you see, Harry?" she finally asked, concern clear in her voice.

He looked at Hermione and he murmured hesitantly "I saw him."

"Who?" she asked, starting to feel slightly alarmed. He couldn't possibly bee talking about who she thought he was. He said those dreams weren't like the ones he used to have when Voldmort was still alive. So it had to be something else. Or, in this case, someone else.

"_Him_." he repeated.

"You… you mean you dreamt about Voldmo—"

"No! Merlin, Hermione, why would I dream about him?" Harry asked, seeming really surprised Hermione would think that he had been dreaming about Voldmort.

"Well, you didn't exactly say _who_ he was and I'm afraid I was never good at Divination." Hermione replied, more harshly than she intended to. "I'm sorry, Harry," she quickly said. "I'm just worried…". She bit her lip and looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry looked at her, frowning. He decided to ignore her harsh comment. He understood she was worried about him.

"Sirius" he finally said "It was about Sirius."

Hermione frowned in thought. Harry had always had strange dreams, but they had mostly been due to his link to the Dark Lord. And with his new dreams, Harry could either be reading too much into them, as Hermione suspected, or Harry's strange dreams had always been more like visions or prophetic dreams, or something like that, not so much related to the Dark Lord as everyone thought, and probably more related to some sort of extrasensory perception. But Hermione found that hard to believe.

During the War, Harry had been too busy saving the Wizarding World. Only now, when he was safe, he could stop and think about what he lost. And Sirius had been one terrible loss for him, even more than Albus Dumbledor's death.

Sirius had been a sort of bridge between Harry and his father, James. Sure, there had been Remus Lupin, who had also been his father's best friend, but Sirius and James had been like brothers. And Sirius had been chosen by James and Lily to be Harry's godfather. Sirius Black had been the closest thing to a father Harry had had.

And Hermione believed Harry had been the same for Sirius. After all, Harry was the spitting image of his father, except, of course, for his eyes, so it had probably given Sirius some sort of balance, especially after all those years in Azkaban.

"What did you dream exactly, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know… I don't remember anything else from the dream. I just know it was about Sirius…"

"Maybe… maybe you are reading too much into these dreams…" Hermione said, in a low voice, almost waiting for him to explode and say he wasn't crazy. But that didn't happen. Harry only looked at her and shrugged.

"Maybe…"

Hermione nodded, not really knowing what to say.

"I'll better… sleep" Harry suddenly said, putting the book on the bedside table.

"Oh, right" Hermione said, raising from Harry's bed.

"We'll talk tomorrow, though," Harry said "I want to know why I feel like you don't want to talk about your meeting at the Ministry"

Hermione sighed. "Fine… But tomorrow I'll start my research, so it will have to be when I return"

* * *

Tobias Wenlock had altered the period of time his apprentices would have to research. Now they had until September. He had only done these alterations because he had been asked to participate in another project associating the Department of Mysteries and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That had been all he had told his apprentices.

When Hermione knew of the alterations, she had created another plan for her research and since she suspected everyone would start by using the Library of the Ministry, she had decided to see if she could find any information regarding the Veil in the records of the Department of Mysteries. The records were kept in a terribly big, dusty and unorganized room. It was a nightmare. Hermione silently cursed William Geheim, the Head of the Department, who could very well had employed someone to keep that room clean.

She was walking through one of the narrow corridors of the room, the shelves were covered with boxes and files and even single sheets, probably lost in the madness of that room. Oh, yes, this room would also need someone to organise all the boxes and files. It was indeed a nightmare. Hermione almost exploded with frustration but she wasn't going to give up because of a bit of dust and disorganization.

No, she would just write to the Head of the Department.

And if that didn't work, well, she would just have to use a bit of her connections and talk with Kingsley. Even if that would probably upset the Head of her Department. But if she did that, it would only be for the sake of the Department.

She opened one of the boxes of the shelf that was supposed to contain information about the Death Chamber and let out a sigh when she read the first lines of the report and found out that it was actually about the Time Room. She took another report from the same box and it was abut the same room too as the first; the third report wasn't, tough; it was about the Brain Room. "_Great_!" she said. "I'll find reports about every single room of the Department of Mysteries except about the Death Chamber. It's no wonder they can't decipher any mystery…"

The sound of someone chuckling startled her and she let the box fall from her hands, spreading the reports on the floor. Before she had time to turn and face whoever had laughed, she heard the person curse and walk towards her. She saw him bend over near her and starting to gather the reports together.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you" the man with a Scottish accent said.

"Oh, it's… okay, really" Hermione said, while he put the reports back in the box, which was the only thing Hermione had picked from the foor.

"I don't think they're arranged as before…" he said, looking guilty.

Hermione looked at him and smiled. "I don't think that's a problem. They weren't organised to begin with. It is actually quite shocking…" she said, frowning.

"Yes, I heard you making that comment on them not finding any solution for the mysteries with this disorganization."

"Indeed" Hermione said, taking a good look at him while he looked around him, at the shelves. He wasn't much older than her. He was probably in the same project as her, but he obviously was working with another object. He was tall. Probably taller than Ron, but not much. He had really short brown hair and he seemed to wrinkle his nose while he was thinking or searching for something.

"This really is a complete nightmare. You weren't overreacting…"

"Oh, yes, this is a mess, isn't it?" she commented, noticing a dimple on his right cheek.

"I wonder _when_ and _how_ they do the cleaning…"

"If they ever do…" Hermione muttered.

He chuckled. "Yes… So, Miss Granger, were you here trying to avoid the madness in the library?»"

Hermione's eyes opened in surprise. "How do you know my name?"

He smiled and pointed to her chest. She looked down at it in a sharp movement and then she saw it and smiled. "Of course," she said. "The badge. I always forget I'm wearing it"

"Well, you just need to know it's there when you're lost… Besides, I already knew you."

She raised one of her eyebrows at him. He seemed to take that as a question and explained. "The War. You were part of the Golden Trio. One of Dumbledore's _protégés_."

Her eyebrow raised even farther but she decided not to comment the rather deprecatory tone in his voice. She should be used by now. Being friends with The-Boy-Who-Lived sometimes made some people think she had only gone so far because of Harry's possible influence on Dumbledore.

"So… were you here trying to avoid the madness in the library?"

"Yes, actually…" she looked at the badge on his chest. "Mr. Fletchey"

"You can call me Thomas," he said grinning at her. "And there aren't a lot of people in the library… surprisingly"

"Really?" she looked at him in disbelief. "Either way, I wanted to start with the reports but I guess it's going to be impossible… unless I organised everything… which would probably have terrible repercussions in my final report… or even my weakly report… "

"Why bother, aye?"

She frowned. "It's not because it could bother me… it's because it could actually contain important information on my object of study--"

"Oh, what is it?" he asked, seeming really interested.

"I don't know if I can tell you these kind of things, Mr. Fletchey." Hermione said, putting the box in the exact place she had found it. He frowned at her.

"Anyway, I have to go" Hermione said. "I have to write a letter to the Head of this Department."

**

* * *

**

The moment Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place, Harry shouted her name. She quickly walked to the kitchen, from where Harry had shouted.

"What's wrong, Harry?" she asked, arriving at the kitchen and seeing Kreatcher serving Harry a sandwich. Kreatcher bowed and disappeared.

"This letter arrived for you. The bloody owl didn't want me to take it but I convinced him with the help of Kreatcher's sandwiches" Harry said, handing her the letter.

"Where is it from?" Hermione asked, taking half of Harry's sandwich, which made him glare at her.

"It's from the Ministry of Magic… specifically from the Department of Mysteries…" he hesitated. "Are you working in the Department of Mysteries?"

Hermione looked at him and felt guilty for not talking to him sooner about her meeting. "Sorry, Harry. I promise I'll tell you everything. Let me just read this… I hope they haven't changed my timetable again…"

Hermione unfolded the letter and read:

_Dear M__iss Granger,_

_Since you are so eager to organise the files present in the Room Zero of the Department of Mysteries, you and the apprentices that share the same object of study as you can start arranging the files as soon as possible. Obviously, you will also have to keep working for your project so I will be expecting your report at the end of this program. _

_I have already sent your colleagues and the Unspeakable responsible for your project a letter informing them of this. I also told them they would have to thank you._

_Sincerely,_

_William Geheim_

_Head of the Department of Mysteries _

"That _git_!" Hermione shouted when she finished reading. She turned her back to Harry and walked upstairs, towards her room, muttering about the nerve of the Head of the Department all the way. Harry was left in the kitchen, with his eyebrows raised in surprise. Apparently Hermione wasn't going to talk with him that night.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This chapter hasn't been edited yet. I apologise for any mistakes.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

_August, 1999_

"Thank you _very_ _much_, Hermione. A dusty room is the _perfect_ place to work in our object of study. Actually, I couldn't think of a better place. Sure, a couple of tables and chairs would be great, but, _hey_, the dust kind of gives it a more interesting look, doesn't it?" Clarisse Shingleton said, glaring at Hermione. Matthew Twiddle and Jonathan Abbot exchanged glances and chuckled. "I can't wait to find _any_ information on these reports regarding _my_ object of study…" Clarisse muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her colleague while throwing another report on the Brain Room to a box. She had discussed with Tobias Wenlock about the best way to start organising the reports and they had both agreed that they would separate the files by topic and then chronologically. So far, no one had found any file containing information regarding the Veil. The good thing was that they seemed to be doing their job very quickly. Hermione thought that if they worked like they had been doing, they could have the room organised in five days, which was great and it didn't really compromise their individual investigations.

Tobias Wenlock had admitted being surprised when he was informed Hermione had sent a letter to the Head of the Department. Normally apprentices talked with the Unspeakables responsible for their project and the Unspeakable decided if it was worth talking to the Head. He was actually pleased someone had thought about the records of the Department and informed the Head of its drastic situation, so he had decided to help his apprentices separating the documents, instead of just supervising. If they didn't find anything new or forgotten regarding the Veil, at least next time someone wished to find reports on any other object in the Department they wouldn't spend half a hour trying to control their sneezes and they certainly wouldn't spend a week trying to find the report.

"Miss Shingleton," Tobias called. They had been listening to Clarisse Shingleton rant about how unfair her present situation was and that Hermione should be doing this alone. "Are you so upset with the idea of helping the Department?" he asked her, a hint of disapproval on his voice.

Clarisse had the decency to blush. "_No_! No, Mr. Wenlock. I wanted to work for this Department… and help… just not _here_…" she said, glaring at Hermione, who was too absorbed in her work to notice her colleague.

"Well, you have to start somewhere..." Gavin Whitehorn said cheerfully. He was on the floor separating the files and boxes, not seeming to mind much.

"I don't think_ I_ should be starting here." Clarisse said, arrogance dripping from her words. Hermione almost chuckled. She would have loved to see Clarisse in her Potion classes. "I have been _chosen_ for this project of the Department of Mysteries and I am certain that, originally, that didn't include cleaning rooms and organising files."

Tobias sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, as if begging Merlin for patience. "Miss Shingleton, just remember your colleagues were chosen too. You are _not_ an especial case."

Clarisse blushed, not of embarrassment, but of anger. "Well, there will only be three chosen apprentices and I don't think spoiling time here is going to help _my_ research. _Miss Granger_ might as well have ruined my chances of getting one of those positions"

"Miss Shingleton," Tobias hissed. It looked like his prayers to Merlin hadn't been answered. "You will separate those documents. You will sort them by topic and date. You will read the ones _I_ will tell you to read and you will write a report on them to deliver to _me_. I don't want to hear you complaining one more time. If I hear you winning about this again you will lose your chance of getting one of the positions because I will personally inform the Head of the Department that you are not suited. Have I made myself clear?" Tobias asked, his tall figure towering over hers. Clarisse seemed to falter a bit, but quickly recovered and nodded.

"_Great_," Tobias murmured. "Now back to work. All of you. I want this done by the end of the week. If you fail, you will start working on weekends."

* * *

"Hermione?"

Hermione had just arrived from the Ministry and she was looking curiously at the fireplace. She glanced at Harry when he called her name and when she saw his grin she knew he had finally done something about the dusty fireplace.

"Well, I was about to think it had been a miracle," Hermione muttered. "No dust in my hair or on by robes?"

Harry shook his head. "No '_thank you, Harry_!'?"

"Thank you Harry!" she said, mimicking his tone. "Now, honestly, I have no idea why you didn't do anything about this sooner… Even if your glasses kind of protect your eyes from the dust a bit..."

"Do you have any idea how a hard it is to find a competent wizard who could clean the whole fireplace. This one even cleaned the chimney..." Harry said, with dramatic hand gesticulations.

Hermione chuckled. "You're so dramatic, Harry, honestly."

He rolled his eyes. "Anyway…" he said. "I've been wanting to talk to you…"

"Let's go to the kitchen, then. I really don't feel like casting a Silencing Charm on the portrait."

Harry nodded. "Someday you'll have to do something about it…" he said, following Hermione to the basement. Hermione only rolled her eyes at his last comment.

Before Hermione had the time to think of preparing something to eat or drink, Harry asked, "Is your project in the Department of Mysteries?"

Hermione turned to him, a shocked expression on her face. She suddenly felt that she would rather have Mrs. Weasley in front of her, telling her how disappointed she was because Hermione hadn't told about her parents when she returned from Australia than having Harry asking her about her object of study in the Department of Mysteries.

She didn't want him to think that she would bring Sirius back. She knew he would think of that, tough. Even if not intentionally. Hermione thought of lying, but he would never forgive her. She would never forgive herself for lying about this. Waiting for the right moment to tell the Weasleys about her parents was one thing… Lying to her best friend would be completely idiotic of her. She opened her mouth to say the truth, but Harry was faster.

"You're studying the Veil." he said. Hermione could only nod.

He shook his head. "I understand your reluctance in telling me, but…"

"Harry…" she murmured. She wanted to explain. She wanted him to know she was going to say the truth.

"No, really. And I would like to tell you that the fact that _you_ are studying the Veil hasn't given me any hope but… I really can't. It's not something I can choose to feel… or not to..."

"I know. That's why I was reluctant… I'm sorry. I was going to tell you… I just didn't know exactly how to tell you…"

He walked to the table and sat in one of the chairs. "So… what are you doing? Are you on the room where the Veil is kept?"

"No… Far from it, actually." She said, joining him. "Right now we're organising the room where they keep the reports."

Harry frowned. "Can they ask you to do that?"

Hermione sighed. She felt tired. "I don't really know. But it was kind of my fault."

When Harry gave her a confused look she explained "I sent a letter to the Head of the Department saying that that room was a complete disorganization… He mustn't have taken it well since he replied telling me that my colleagues and I would have to organise the reports before throwing ourselves into our research"

Harry shook his head, amused. "Only you, Hermione…"

"Oh, come on. The Unspeakable responsible for my group actually thought it was about time someone did something about that room. Besides… with the amount of dust in it I'd say that they haven't tried to find information in it for a couple of years… They probably just throw the boxes into the room and don't even bother to separate the files… _Maybe_ we'll find something."

Hermione raised from the seat next to Harry and opened a cupboard. For a couple of minutes, while Hermione prepared some tea and toasts, neither of them spoke. When she handed Harry a cup of tea he looked at her intently.

"Do you think you will find _something_?" Harry asked. She knew what he meant. She knew that above all the things Hermione could find about the Veil, he wanted to know if she thought she would find something that would bring _him_ back.

Hermione chewed a bit of toast while she considered the best way to answer him. After swallowing the bit of toast, Hermione sipped at her tea.

"Our main objective is to find out more about the background of the Veil… When it was created and why… who created it and how… We're not trying to…" she hesitated. "We're not trying to _reverse_ its effects. We don't even know if that would be a possibility… but to even consider that we would have to find any relevant information about the background of the Veil…"

"Dumbledore and Remus told me it was impossible," Harry murmured. "They said _he_ wasn't coming back…"

"Harry... if we ever find anything important... you'll know." Hermione said, promising that much.

* * *

Clarisse hadn't made any remark since Tobias had told her she would never be one of the chosen three without his approval. Her behaviour had changed drastically since then. It almost seemed the real Clarisse had been replaced by someone else, far more helpful… or that someone had cast the _Imperius Curse_ on her.

Hermione thought that they had separated three quarters of the reports, which was good, considering it was their third day in there. That day Tobias decided that one of them would start separating the files chronologically and Hermione had volunteered. Everyone else seemed to want to find the reports so that they could claim that they had been the ones who found them, as if that would make their research better.

"There _has_ to be a spell that could help us with this… Especially when we'll have to sort them by date" Gavin said, looking tired. While he had been one of the only ones that had been interested in finding what the reports said about the Veil, his cheerfulness had dissipated when no report had been found.

"There is," Tobias said, looking at Gavin's apparent desperation with an amused expression. "But it's not one hundred percent effective so we still do it in the traditional way."

"In the _Muggle_ way…" Clarisse murmured, gaining a chuckle from Jonathan Abbot, who was holding the box from where Clarisse took the reports she'd have to separate.

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked to the boxes that had the already separated reports, which were near the door. She decided to start with the reports about the Planet Room, which seemed to be the one with less files (that if she didn't count the Death Chamber, which seemed to have none so far). Only from time to time Hermione would listen muffled voices from the corner of the room she knew her colleagues were, even if he couldn't see them because of the shelves with the boxes and files.

She had been separating the reports for almost two hours when someone opened the door. Hermione's first instinct was to take her wand from the pocket of her robes while she turned to face the person.

She found herself inches from touching the chest of a man. She looked up and found Thomas Fletchey grinning. _Perfect_, she thought.

"Good evening, Hermione. It's good to see you again"

"Mr. Fletchey" she said nodding at him.

He looked around with a curious expression. "This looks even messier than before… even if slightly cleaner…" Thomas commented.

"Yes, well, my colleagues and I are organising the reports. I think it would be better if you le--"

"You're cleaning this? Why?" he asked, seeming almost amused.

Hermione sighed. "Mr. Fletchey, _honestly_, I am trying to work. You _cannot_ be here as long as we're working--"

"Do you need help?" he asked, grinning.

Hermione was going to answer negatively and ask him to leave the room but she heard the sound of footsteps approaching them quickly. She only had time to turn and see Tobias with two boxes on his arms. When he saw Hermione wasn't alone and working he raised an eyebrow in her direction. He also noticed the wand on her hand.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"No, sir," Hermione said. "Mr. Fletchey was just leaving. He came to take a look on some reports but I informed him we were organising them and that he could return in a couple of days" she said, looking at Thomas Fletchey pointedly.

Tobias nodded and looked at Thomas expectantly.

"Yes, well, I should be researching but I'll try the library first" he said, looking curiously at Hermione and then at Tobias. "Thank you, Miss Granger. I'll take my leave now..." he said, opening the door and leaving the room.

Hermione was going to continue her work when she heard Matthew Twiddle calling both Tobias and Hermione. They exchanged glances and strode through some corridors of shelves before finding Matthew holding a box with Clarisse trying to peek at the inside.

"I think I might have found something…"

"You _think_?" Clarisse asked rudely, when Matthew didn't let her see what the box contained.

Tobias ignored Clarisse and walked to Matthew and took one of the reports from the box.

"Indeed, Mr. Twiddle. You found a report about the Veil. Are the other reports on the Veil too?" he asked.

"I guess---"

"Don't guess. Confirm." Tobias hissed before looking at Hermione. "Miss Granger, would you help Mr. Twiddle with the reports?"

"Certainly, sir." Hermione said, walking past Tobias and Clarisse, who glared at her.

"Miss Shingleton, Mr. Whitehorn what are you doing staring at Miss Granger and Mr. Twiddle?" Tobias asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Both Clarisse and Gavin quickly returned to what they had been doing before the first report about the Veil had been found.

Matthew was holding the box with one hand while Hermione took all the reports and quickly scanned the first page, in all of them finding "Death Chamber" on the space where the Unspeakables had to write the name of the room they had studied.

"Sir, the reports from this box are only about the Veil," Hermione informed. Both Clarisse and Gavin stopped their work to look at Tobias.

"Very well. Miss Granger, you will give those reports to Mr. Twiddle and continue sorting the reports on the Planet Room. Mr. Abbot will help you with that. Mr. Twiddle, since there aren't a lot of them in that box, you'll start to sort them by date and I want that finished today. Mr. Whitehorn, Miss Shingleton, I believe I had already told you to keep working?"

Several hours later, when it was almost time for them to leave the Ministry, Tobias asked them to stop what they were doing.

"Yes, Miss Shingleton?" Tobias asked, amused, when he saw her hand was raised.

"Gavin and I finished separating the reports by topic. Will we start sorting them chronologically tomorrow?"

"Yes. Have you found more reports about the Veil?"

"No, sir" Gavin answered, looking a bit more cheerful now that they had found something.

"Mr. Twiddle, have you finished sorting those reports?"

"Yes, sir. We have… forty five reports…" Matthew said, holding the box. "Some of them actually only have half of a page of information. It shouldn't take long to analyse them…"

"Very well. Each of you will have to analyse nine reports. You have two weeks. In the last week of the month you'll have an individual and a group meeting with me, in which we will discuss what you found in the reports. If you need my help before that send me an owl."

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:) ?


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** _This chapter hasn't been edited yet._

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_August, 1999_

The library of the Ministry was _huge_. Hermione realised that much just by standing at its entrance. "_Paradise_, I'm in _paradise_…" she murmured.

Hermione looked up and she realised that from that spot, she could see at least five more floors, but she couldn't really tell if there were more, despite the roof being far above. She could actually see some dark wooden shelves in the third floor, but she couldn't see much after that one. She decided that, if she could, she would inspect every floor some other day. That day, however, Hermione had to start her research. She had avoided the library because she had thought that the other wizards and witches who participated in the same project as her would occupy the library, but now she realised that even if they did, she'd have space enough for herself.

Hermione walked towards the small man with a black moustache who was behind the counter a couple of metres from the entrance. Tobias Wenlock had told them that if they wanted to research in the library, first they'd have to inform the librarian that they wished to have access to the books. When Clarisse had asked why they would want to go to the library if it wasn't because of the books, Tobias had said she would be surprised with the number of people who go there by mistake.

Before Hermione had time to greet the man, he asked for her badge. Hesitantly, Hermione took her badge and handed it to the man. While he murmured a couple of incantations, Hermione looked at his badge: _Herbert Benson_. He then handed the badge at Hermione, who put it in her robes again.

"Miss Granger, are you aware of the things you _cannot_ do in libraries?"

She looked at him and smiled, slightly amused. "Yes, sir, I've been a frequent visitor of libraries in the past years"

"Then I will just say, please do _not_ use your wand, it might---"

"- damage the books, especially old and valuable ones. I know, sir." Hermione said with her know-it-all voice.

"Very well. You can go."

"_Hum_… Mr. Benson, in which floor will I find History books?"

"Third."

"Thank you"

She wandered almost aimlessly in the third floor. She had walked past the shelves on History of the Muggle World, History of the Magical World and several shelves containing books written in a specific century, when she reached area dedicated to books related to History in the twentieth century. She wasn't going to pay much attention to it but when she saw a flaming red head and stopped abruptly.

"What the-- _Ronald Bilius Weasley_?!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes quickly lowering to the cover of the book, where she could read _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_.

The red headed looked up from the book and smiled when he saw his very dishevelled friend.

"You know, I'm sure I'm not the only one who would appreciate if you didn't shout my full name, 'Mione" Ron said, glancing at some wizards on the nearest tables who were looking at them curiously.

"I must have crossed some… invisible portal to another dimension…" she whispered, not believing what she was seeing. "What are you doing in a _library_?" she asked, sitting in front of him and looking at him in disbelif.

He frowned. "I need to study--"

Hermione couldn't help and burst out laughing. She quickly covered her mouth with both hands when she remembered she was in a library.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I am. I'm not sure about _you_, though… Were you, by any chance, hit by a _Confundus Charm_ during your training this morning?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, looking at her as if she had been drinking daily _Befuddlement Draughts_.

She sighed. "Ron, you are in a _library_."

"And as I was going to say before you started making those strange strangling sounds—"

"I was laughing" she said, looking at him amazed.

"Anyway, I have two written exams next week and then I'll have physical exams too. I only have one year and a half before I become an Auror… so, yeah, I'm studying." he said beaming at her. He then looked at the doors that gave access to the stairs and said "Harry should be here by now… Did you see him?"

She shook her head. "I just arrived from level nine…" she said, letting slip more information than she probably should.

"So, how's the Department of Mysteries?" he asked, looking curiously at her. "I don't know how I didn't figure it out before… With your brains…"

Hermione shook her head. "Did Harry tell you that or did you figure out because I said I came from level nine?" Hermione asked.

"Harry told me this morning, during practice. I hope you don't mind--"

"I don't" she quickly said.

"Good… because Harry really needed to talk with someone… He didn't want to talk to you because he thought you'd keep on thinking he expects you to bring _him_ back…"

Hermione sighed. "I'm just reading reports and trying to find information in books... I'm not trying to _completely_ decipher the Veil… and I am certainly not trying to reverse what happened…" she said, as if excusing herself.

"I know… But you have to agree… It gives hope to a bloke like him"

"That's why I was a bit reluctant in the beginning…"

"Yeah… he said that"

They were silent for a couple of minutes. Ron had started reading the book again and Hermione was checking the titles in that section. She wasn't expecting to find anything related to the Veil there; she was actually trying to decide if she should tell Ron about what had happened to her parents or if it would be better some other time. _Come on, Hermione_, she said to herself, _Where is your Gryffindor courage?_ She cursed her rational part and sighed deeply.

She looked at Ron and waited for him to realise she was practically staring at him. when he did and raised her a red eyebrow she gathered all her courage to speak to him. However, when she was going to say it, he turned again to his book.

"Ron?" Hermione called.

"Yeah?" he murmured without taking his eyes from the book, which only made Hermione more frustrated. She had spent years telling him to read a book and when he finally did it, she needed him to look at her and not at the book. She almost desperately wanted to see his reaction. She wanted to see if he would be hurt because she didn't tell him sooner.

"Ron," she called once again.

"What?" he asked, this time looking solely at her.

"My parents are dead" she whispered quickly, before he could look back to his book.

For a couple of seconds Ron only gaped at her. _Ok, maybe you should have thought of a differet way to tell him. What possessed you to just _spill _those words?_ She mentally cursed herself one more time. She should have planned her words, now Ron seemed unable to use his power of speech.

"_What_!" he said loudly, calling the attention of the wizards near his table, who, once again, decided to ignore them.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner…" Hermione said, looking straight at him, as if expecting him to explode and start ranting about trust and friendship.

"Hermione…" he made a move to raise from the chair but Hermione shook her head frantically and he sat back, looking confused at her reaction.

"Don't… just… don't try to _comfort_ me" she said, hesitantly.

"What?" he asked, seeming to understand her less and less with every word she spoke.

"I don't want you to tell me everything is going to be okay or… to hug me or… something like that. Actually, I think you should be mad at me…because I didn't tell you before… and I haven't told your family yet… Only Harry knows… and you--"

"Hermione, I'm not mad at you"

She bit her lip. "Okay…" she said in a very low voice.

"And if you don't want me to hug you I won't… But you'll have to tell my family… Soon."

"Your mother and Ginny will never forgive me… It's been a month since I knew…"

"When did they… died?"

"Last year, in November… In a car accident…" she gave him a sad smiled. "Pretty ironic, isn't it? I took them to Australia to save them from the any danger, to save them from the magical world and they died in such a… _normal_ way… I should have thought of protecting them from the Muggle world too…"

"You couldn't have known" Ron said, looking at her perplexed.

"I should have thought about _all_ the possibilities… I know I could have protected them… The war had been over for months when they died" she said "If I had returned to Australia instead of being selfish and deciding to return to Hogwarts… they could be alive..."

"Hermione…" he murmured softly.

She looked at him and saw pity in his eyes. She didn't know if it was because of her parents or because of herself. She didn't want to know either, so she raised from her seat and said "I… I need to research… and you need to study."

"If you want to talk…"

"I don't think I'll want… At least not soon. But thank you, Ron."

He nodded and started reading the book again. Hermione stood there for a couple of seconds, looking at him, when something popped in her head. She smiled mischievously.

"Oh, by the way…" she said.

"Uh?" he mumbled absently, turning a page of the book.

"Are you _dating_?" Hermione asked, leaning against the table and beaming at him. Ron looked up at her so fast, his eyes almost jumping out and his ears turned an incredible shade of red, and gaped at her. Hermione giggled. "I'll find it out, Ron" she said, before leaving Ron, who followed her with his eyes, wtill gaping.

After a couple of more minutes wandering in the third floor, she decided to ask for the librarian's help. Surely, if someone could tell her if books regarding the Veil existed in that library it would be him. At least she hoped he could help her.

She was near the door that would give her access to a lift and a staircase when she heard someone calling her name. If it had been quieter, she wouldn't have listened. She recognised it as a male voice and silently prayed that it didn't belong to Thoomas Fletchey. The man was extremelly bothersome.

The man called again and Hermione was able to find him. She sighed in relief when she saw Jonathan Abbot in a table near the door.

"Hey" he said when she sat in front of him. "So... Did you find anything?"

She shook her head "I didn't really search, though…" she admitted guiltily.

He chuckled. "I don't think we'll find much. Those reports probably have more answers than any book here"

Hermione nodded. "Have you analysed yours already?"

"Most of them. You?"

"I've read them, but I haven't written any report on them yet. I was hoping to find something here so that I could add to the information in my report" she tilted her head, studying him while he finished reading some paragraph. Jonathan Abbot's facial expressions were very similar to Hannah Abbot's, a Hufflepuff student who had been in the same year as Hermione. And they were also both blondes.

"I don't remember you in Hogwarts…" Hermione admitted. "I remember Hannah Abbot, though, she is your relative, isn't she?"

"Yes, Hannah is my cousin" Jonathan said, looking at her curiously.

"Which was your House?" Hermione asked.

He smiled. "Hufflepuff"

"Is that a family thing?" Hermione asked, smiling.

He shrugged. "What can I say? We're all loyal, trustworthy, hard working, patient and honest. Not to mention handsome."

Hermione snorted and shook her head amused.

"You were in Gryffindor, right?" he asked and when Hermione nodded he admitted "A lot of people wondered why you weren't in Ravenclaw..."

Hermione shrugged. "The Sorting Hat considered placing me in Ravenclaw, but I ended up in Gryffindor. What about our colleagues?" she asked. "Do you know to which Houses they used to belong?"

"Sure… I've talked with them. Clarisse Shinglton and Matthew Twiddle were in Ravenclaw while Gavin Whitehorn was in Slytherin"

"Really?" Hermione asked surprised. "I would have never guessed Gavin had been a Slytherin. Actually, to be honest, Clarisse seems more of a Slytherin than Gavin…" she seemed absorbed in thought. "I wonder which House Tobias Wenlock belonged to… I know I've heard or read his name before, but I can't remember where…"

"Did you study Arithmancy?"

"Yes…"

"Then you must have heard of his surname..."

It suddenly hit her.

"Of course! Bridget Wenlock! The witch who discovered the magical properties of the number seven! I can't believe I didn't remember before… Arithmancy was my favourite subject at Hogwarts..."

"Yeah, well, he's one of her descendants…" Jonathan said smiling.

Hermione smiled at him and when he turned back to his book, which, she noticed, was about History of Magic in the Middle Ages, she raised from her seat and took a look at the books on the shelves behind her. The books just about the Middle Ages. She noticed there were Muggle books too. She suddenly felt a bit hopeless. If she wanted to find anything regarding the Veil in the Middle Ages she'd have to read practically all the general books on the theme and those kind of books lacked the specificity she needed for this subject. She looked at Jonathan, who was still reading the book and wondered if he would discuss with her about the Veil without Tobias Wenlock near or if he'd react defensively and think she wanted to steal his information. She decided she would give it a try.

"So…" Hermione began. "I don't want to seem noisy but did you find anything in this library?"

"I think there's a book in the Fiction area. The author, Sluier, made a very dramatic description of the Veil. He also says that it is a passage to the world of the dead."

"Yes, actually I have a report in which an Unspeakable, whose name I can't remember right now, mentioned that book." Hermione commented.

Jonathan tilted his head. "Did he support the author's ideas?" he asked curiously.

"No," Hermione said, smiling. "Actually, that report is the reason that that book was sent to the floor where they keep fiction books… I should have thought of reading it… Did you read it? What is it about?" she asked, leaning in his direction in interest.

He hesitated. "I didn't read the book… I came across it because the name of the author was mentioned in one of the reports I'm analysing… but I only read a paragraph or two of the book… and I read it in the report"

"Oh, so you didn't read the book… Did you find it in here?" she asked, glancing around her, as if she there was the possibility of laying her eyes on it.

"I didn't even tried to find it, actually… But in the report it was mentioned that the book was in the Fiction section of the Ministry's Library…"

"Yes… _hum_, maybe I should ask the librarian... It might be fiction but I'd like to know what Sluier thinks of the Veil…" she said. "Actually… now that I think about it… Do you have any idea who Sluier is? Was he an Unspeakable or something like that?"

Jonathan shook his head. "I don't know. As far as I know he's a novelist…"

Hermione pursed her lips. "But why would he have access to the Veil? I don't think he would be allowed to get near it just to satisfy his novelist's yearnings"

"Maybe when he was alive it didn't matter… We don't know if he is a contemporary author or not"

"You're right…"

"And not only Unspeakables are granted access to the Death Chamber" he said, looking at her in a way that made her think he knew of people who had entered in the Death Chamber and weren't Unspeakables. Hermione frowned. He couldn't possibly know of what happened in the Department of Mysteries years ago, when they had gone to the Department believing Sirius was in danger. She was sure he didn't know but he spoke those words with such certainty... Did he know of any other case? What was the probability of that happening more than once?

When she raised her eyebrow at him, as if asking him to prove it, he sighed.

"I don't know if this still happens in the Department of Mysteries, but some years ago, not only Unspeakables worked for the Department. Sometimes, the Unspeakables were injured so they hired Healers. I had an aunt who worked as a Healer in the Department and she had access to the Death Chamber _once_. Two Unspeakables had been studying the Veil and one got too near it. He said he had heard something. The other Unspeakable didn't hear anything, so he asked him to step back because it was dangerous. Since his colleague didn't seem to listen to him he called for help. After that I don't know very well how it happened. What my parents told me was that she had fallen through it. They didn't tell me why, though… Both my aunt and the first Unspeakable fell through it..."

"How do you know those things?" Hermione asked, her face expressing a sort of horrified fascination. "I thought people who worked for the Department of Mysteries swore secrecy?"

Jonathan nodded. "They do. And if we ever work for the Department we will have to do it too. There is, however, the necessity to explain these things when the people involved die… or, in this case, disappear… I never really know when it comes to the Veil"

"They had to write a report on them. Especially because two people fell through it in the same day" Hermione said, feeling exasperated and curious at the same time.

He nodded. "They did. I don't have their reports, though. Someone else must have them. I don't know the name of the man, but my aunt was called Isis Knot…"

Hermione looked up at him. "I have that report."

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:) ?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I know some of you want Sirius to be back soon. Don't worry. He will. :)

This chapter hasn't been edited yet too. :( My Beta is unavailable at the moment. Please forgive any _terrible_ mistakes.

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**Chapter 8**

_August, 1999_

Hermione was waiting with Matthew and Gavin for Clarisse and Jonathan. They had been told that that would be their only meeting, so if they had something to discuss, that was their chance. They weren't going to have their individual meetings – unless, of course, they needed to sort certain aspects of their individual report. But that was it.

When Clarisse and Jonathan arrived, Matthew knocked on Tobias' door.

"I am _so_ tired," Clarisse said to Gavin, who was her closest friend in the group. Hermione wasn't surprised. He was also the only Slytherin. A very nice Slytherin, it's true, but a Slytherin nonetheless.

"Did someone actually notice that we practically worked like house-elves during that week in that blasted room?" Clarisse murmured to Gavin, who just chuckled in response.

Hermione's instantaneous reaction was to snort at what her colleague said. "I don't think you know what working like house-elves is, Clarisse," Hermione said, shaking her head almost disappointed. She might no longer promote house-elves welfare in the (almost radical) way she did when she was in her fourth year at Hogwarts, but that didn't mean it didn't shock her how easy wizards and witches used expressions like the one Clarisse had just uttered, especially when they seemed to have no idea how much house-elves actually worked.

"And you do?" Clarisse retorted, crossing her arms in her chest and glaring at Hermione.

"No, but I never said I did." Hermione pointed out with a faint grin.

Tobias cleared his throat and both Clarisse and Hermione looked at him for the first time since they had entered in his office.

"Miss Shingleton, that wasn't the best analogy," he said. "But yes, actually, William Geheim visited the room yesterday."

"What did he say?" Hermione asked, curious, taking one of the chairs near Tobias' desk. Surprisingly, Clarisse took the seat next to hers.

Tobias tried to hide but Hermione knew he wanted to smile. Just a flicker of his mouth was enough for her to realise he was amused. She didn't know if it was because Clarisse had deliberately sat next to her or if it was about what William Geheim said.

"He said he couldn't see any difference--"

Both Clarisse and Hermione gasped. The men, however, looked at Tobias astonished and started laughing at the idiocy of such thought. The room didn't look the same. William Geheim had been either joking or insulting them.

"How dare he!" Clarisse practically shouted, her cheeks red with anger and her eyes glittering dangerously.

Hermione was less passionate about the matter. After the initial shock, she frowned in thought. William Geheim couldn't have anything against them, could he? He didn't even know them. Was it their supervisor he didn't like? Was there any chance that William Geheim wasn't on friendly terms with Tobias Wenlock?

"Does he have anything against us, sir?" Hermione asked, curious. She couldn't think of a reason for him not to like Tobias. True, the only things Hermione knew about him was that he was descendant of one of the most brilliant witches in Arithmancy and that he was intelligent. After all, he worked for the Department of Mysteries. Despite still happening in some of the other departments, one couldn't get a position in the Department of Mysteries because of his relationship with one of the Heads or his surname or blood. Only some people were accepted, and it was because of their intellect. That's why she couldn't imagine William Geheim having anything against Tobias Wenlock – well, unless it was something personal.

Tobias looked attentively at her, as if pondering whether to answer or not. He sighed. "We can talk about that later," he said, dismissing the subject. "Now, before starting with what you found in the reports I need to inform you that the Head of the Department announced the time limit for you to send him your reports."

"Merlin! Already?" said Gavin, surprised.

"The Head wants the reports about the Veil by the end of the year," Tobias announced. "This means that you will have to let me read them before you send them to him. And I want your reports in the beginning of November. I know it looks like you have enough time, but believe me, if you leave the report to the end of—"

Clarisse seemed to panic at what he said. "In November?" she interrupted. "But— but… we're still analysing the reports! We still have to search information in-- in _books_!"

"Miss Shingleton, I can assure you, there are no books about the Veil in the library. It's not an object commonly studied--"

"If it's not commonly studied why do we have to study it?" Clarisse retorted, panic seeming to take over her normal (rather) respectful manners towards Tobias.

"Miss Shinglton, do I have to remember you that you were chosen to work in this object? Apparently, this is the object of the Department of Mysteries which would require your help. Don't ask me why, it was chosen and we've already talked about this so I'm not going to repeat myself." He cleared his throat. "As I was saying, there are no _non_fictional books where you can find theories, analysis, even descriptions of the Veil. Your best resource is those reports. Use them. Theorise. That's what you were asked to do."

"But isn't it too soon? _November_? I thought we were supposed to stay for as long as we were prepared…" Clarisse said, a bit calmer.

Tobias smiled. "Yes, but even you should know that the project can't go on forever"

"Mr. Wenlock?" Hermione called.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Tobias said, turning to her.

"Isn't it a bit unfair that there are only three positions available?"

"Are you afraid you won't get one, Hermione?" asked Clarisse, faking a sweet voice.

Tobias sighed. "It _is_ rather unfair, I suppose. But we only have three positions available," he said. "The other apprentices may be offered positions in other Departments. Every apprentice in this project was approved by the Department of Mysteries. The other departments will be more than grateful that we… separated a couple of brilliant mind for them."

"That sounds very interesting," Clarisse said, smiling genuinely.

"Sir, you said the Veil isn't commonly studied," Jonathan said. When Tobias nodded, Jonathan continued "Weren't the reports studied by Unspeakables? If they were, at least they could put aside certain theories…"

"The reports aren't analysed by Unspeakables, Mr. Abbot. They're written by them and sent to the Head. Then, they are sent to the room you cleaned." Tobias explained.

Hermione frowned. "Isn't that a bit irresponsible? Some reports are there for decades, maybe centuries even. Isn't it irresponsible not to review the reports?" Hermione asked. "They contain valuable—"

"Doubtful" Clarisse interrupted rudely.

"-information," Hermione finished, glaring at Clarisse. "Despite the fact that not all of them should be regarded as completely accutare" she said, looking straight a Clarisse.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I understand," Tobias said. "And I am afraid no Unspeakable would have arguments to defend themselves from your critics. However, it's the Head of the Department of Mysteries who chooses which room and which objects should be prioritized. The Veil wasn't the Head's main interest…"

"Any particular reason?" Hermione asked.

"Not that I know of."

"What objects were prioritized by the Head?" Jonathan asked. Hermione knew he would be one of the interested if the Head prioritized the Veil. His aunt had fallen through it and even though he hadn't been born at the time, she was sure he wouldn't mind having a relative alive, especially since most of his direct relatives had died during the war.

"The Time Room, since most of the Ministry's Time-Turners were destroyed in 1995," Tobias said. Hermione nodded absently. All the Time-Turners of the Ministry had been broken in the battle between some Death Eaters and members of the Dumbledore Army. "Most Unspeakables are working in that one. Myself included," he admitted. "Then there's the Hall of Prophecies, which, as you can imagine, requires the best professionals. The Department of Mysteries is constantly updating the Hall of Prophecies and we have to study them. Quite obviously, only people who are connected to the prophecy can get it, so you can imagine the time most Unspeakables spend working in that room and the troubles they must face."

Hermione felt slightly outraged. They were paying more attention to an inexact subject when they had other objects to decipher. Although she did have to admit that perhaps sometimes she was unable to defend her dislike for Divination. Mostly because of Harry's drams and Sibyll Trelawney's two prophecies which had actually happened. But that didn't mean she agreed with the fact that that room had been prioritised over other, far more important rooms.

"And there is the fact that the Ministry is still dealing with the consequences of the war. Despite the Minister's changes, the Ministry is not fully recovered of the war. These things take time. It's been just a year and a couple of months..."

That was true. And the Department of Mysteries would probably be the last of all the Departments to have the attention of the Minister. She couldn't blame the Ministry, though. She knew that things still were a bit messy in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And that was the main department.

"So the Veil isn't being studied at the moment?" Gavin asked, looking a bit perplexed.

"It is," Tobias said "By you"

Clarisse snorted. "So we are doing their job." She said. "_And_ without getting paid" Clarisse murmured.

"Why do you think the Veil wasn't chosen to be studied?" Hermione asked, both by curiosity and so that Clarisse's comment would be ignored.

"There is no apparent danger--" Tobias started.

"No apparent danger?" Hermione asked, feeling more and more shocked. "A man fell through it three years ago!"

"A _murderer_" Clarisse said with disdain. "I don't think it was a loss to the world…"

Hermione looked at her, jaw dropped. "A _murderer_?!" Were they talking about the same person?

"Sirius Black," Clarisse spoke, in a professional tone. "I have the report of that case. He was the responsible for the murder of twelve Muggles. What do you have to say in his defence?"

"Only that, quite obviously, whoever wrote that report is the most ignorant, shallow, dim-witted Unspeakable ever to lay feet in this Department" Hermione snapped.

"Really?" Clarisse asked, looking like she was trying to hold her laughter.

"Yes," Hermione said. "_Really_."

Clarisse grinned. "I wonder what William Geheim would say if he heard the insults you just threw at him…"

After that the room was in complete silence. For a second, Hermione regretted what she had said. What she had said could cost her a position in the Department of Mysteries. But she dismissed it. She had to defend him. He was innocent. If William Geheim had written that in the report then she would have to talk with him.

"William Geheim was the Unspeakable who wrote Sirius Black's report?" Hermione asked, just to be sure.

"I am starting to wonder if you have a memory problem, Hermione," Clarise said, with her fake sweet voice. "I believe I just said that."

"I don't care," Hermione retorted. "The report could have been written by Merlin that I would think the same. William Geheim obviously didn't know Sirius Black. And, apparently, he didn't even have the decency to update the report when it became public that Sirius Black wasn't the responsible for those Muggle's dea--"

"And you knew him?" Clarisse interrupted.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did know him." Hermione said, using an arrogant tone of voice. "Let me see his report" she ordered.

"I don't think so!" Clarisse said, frowning.

Hermione sighed. She was getting tired of her colleague. "I just want to see if what you said is true."

"I will not give you _my_ report!" Clarisse shouted.

"It's not _your_ report. It belongs to the Ministry." Hermione said. "And if you can read it, I can too! Besides, we're supposed to discuss what we found in the reports--"

"And I just _told_ you what I found—"

"And I want to _see_ it--"

"_Enough_!" Tobias hissed, suddenly next to them. "Give _me_ the report, Miss Shingleton."

Clarisse quicly handed him the document, a victorious smile on her face. Hermione was sure that if Tobias hadn't been in the room, Clarisse would have stuck her tongue at her.

Tobias returned to his chair and for a couple of seconds he read the small text of the report.

"Black, Sirius. Disappeared through the Veil in June 1996. Miss Shingleton, Miss Granger, it does indeed say _convict murderer_. However, William Geheim added a note," he said, glancing at both girls. "Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban _without_ a trial."

"That is practically _meaningless_." Clarisse said, not giving much importance to that fact. "I did study that particular case. It's the most recent one so it's easier to find infomation... And I read that Sirius Black betrayed his friends _and_ murdered twelve Muggles when attempting to escape from the Hit Wizards"

"He didn't kill those Muggles!" Hermione said, exasperated. "And he did not betray his friends! He would rather die that betray his friends!"

"Then who killed those Muggles? A _pup_?" Clarisse snapped.

Hermione almost laughed. "No, it was actually a _rat_--"

"And, well, he died anyway, so--"

"He might be alive…" Gavin said, interrupting both girls with his loud voice. "We don't know if people who fall from the Veil really die... We were supposed to be discussing that,"

"Thank you, Mr. Whitehorn," Tobias said. "Shall we discuss the Veil or Black's innocence?"

"If he hadn't been sent to Azkaban without a trial he wouldn't have fallen through the Veil…" Hermione muttered. She didn't know why she felt the sudden need to defend Sirius so passionately. But she needed to. He had been innocent.

"You don't know that." Clarisse muttered back.

"Miss Shinglton, Miss Granger, for Merlin's sake, _let's discuss the Veil_" Tobias hissed. "Miss Granger?" he said, expectantly.

Hermione quickly took her notebook and a quill from her bag.

"According to one of the Unspeakables of the reports I analysed the Death Chamber was the room for executions," Hermione said. "And the Veil was one of the methods of execution."

"That is one theory," Tobias admitted. "But we have no _concrete_ proves that that was the place where prisoners were executed"

"More proves than the fact that that room is called Death Chamber?" Gavin asked. "That idea is defended in one of my reports too." he said, turning to Hermione.

"The room could have been called Death Chamber because everyone who stepped too close to the Veil disappeared," Clarisse said. "Some Unspeakables consider the thought of the Veil being a method of execution quite laughable. I can quote one of them, if you wish." Clarisse said, with her own notebook in her hands. "He says: _The idea of the Veil being the punishment for criminal's ill actions is quite comical. Unless there is everlasting pain beyond the said Veil, how would they be punished?_"

"Obviously, Unspeakables weren't as brilliant as now…" Matthew commented.

"They were living in a different time, Mathew," Hermione said. "They just thought differently… And they might be rigth..."

"What about the fact that the room looks like an auditorium?" Gavin argued back.

"We don't even know if that was the original place of the Veil or if it was placed there when people realised what it happened when people got too close." Matthew reasoned.

"In one of my reports, an Unspeakable mentions a book," Joanthan began. "As far as I know it doesn't have a title but the author was Sluier."

"That book, or manuscript, or whatever it was, is also mentioned in one of my reports," Clarisse said. "It's considered by some Unspeakables to be a bunch of idiot thoughts gathered together but there is an Unspeakable who thought that the book should have been studied carefully..."

"Apparently it was considered fictional." Jonathan added.

"Indeed," Hermione said. "One of my reports was the reason the book was considered fiction and sent to the restricted area of the library."

"What does the book contain?" Clarisse asked Tobias.

Tobias sighed. "Sluier is a complex subject in the Department of Mysteries. We only know a few things about him and they're not very flattering or even plausible," he explained. "Sluier was a passionate defender of death penalty. He was actually responsible for the introduction of Muggle execution methods in the wizarding world. At first he was seen was a Muggle-lover, something that could have cost his life during that period, but when he showed them what those methods could do, the pain they could inflict, he was practically adored by wizarding's upper society." She said. "But soon they got bored of the Muggle methods…"

"What period exactly?" Hermione asked.

"We don't know the exact year but we can say that he lived in the last centuries of the Middle Ages."

"Is there any possibility that the prison of Azkaban existed already?" Hermione asked.

Tobias looked confused. "I believe it already existed, yes."

"Why is that important?" Clarisse asked.

"Because if the prison already existed and if the Veil was an execution method, then the Veil didn't sound as displeasing as Azkaban so some people would rather be executed there. They wanted criminals to suffer so the Veil wouldn't have been very famous. Unless people wanted a quick work, that is…"

"But if Azkaban already existed why was the Veil created?" Jonathan asked.

"And how?" Matthew added.

Tobias sighed. "Those are the reasons the Veil is in this Department, gentlemen"

"But…" Hermione started. "If Azkaban already existed, and I think we can find that easier than anything about the Veil, that means that either the Veil was created for a quicker death, which makes no sense--"

"Because there are other ways of killing or executing people--" Clarisse added.

"That must mean that it was created with another purpose…" Hermione finished.

"Aren't there any documents about types of execution used by the Wizengamot?" Clarisse asked, rather exasperated.

"If they exist, they must be in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Hermione said.

"Are we allowed to research in their reports?" Clarisse asked Tobias.

"If you think it will help you with your theories, then yes, I can ask for you to be allowed there," Tobias said, nodding. "I think I should remind you, though… Sluier was, as far as we know, a novelist. And you don't _need_ to find what the Veil really is or why he was created. You have to theorise, yes, but even if you are wrong, it's the way you use the information you collected that will be evaluated by the Head and that will be the reason he may choose you" he finished. "Have you understood?"

When his apprentices nodded he said "Your work is individual from now on."

"But, sir," Clarisse said. "Weren't we supposed to have _practical_ work? Will that be individual too?"

Hermione had forgotten about that. William Geheim had said that they would have to read and collect information about their object and then they would have practicla work. In her case, it meant returning to the Death Chamber.

"Ah, yes," Tobias said, as if he too had forgotten about practical work. "The Head decided he wouldn't wish to be blamed if any of you fell through the Veil, so he didn't give me permition to take you there."

Hermione was disappointed. Clarisse, on the other hand, looked almost offended when she departed from the office, followed by her colleagues.

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**A/N:** The Veil is one of my favourite things in the world of Harry Potter. I wish we knew more about it. All I can do is guess. :(


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** _Okay, I've decided that I will let my Beta have as much time as she needs, so the chapters of this story won't be edited any time soon._

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**Chapter 9 **

_September, 1999_

Hermione didn't know what to think of the Veil. Most of the Unspeakables considered impossible the hypothesis of it being a portal to the world of the dead. Harry had told her that both Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin said that Sirius wouldn't return from it. That he had left them and that no one could do anything about it. She was sure that for the two men to say those words they should have known something about the Veil, or maybe they knew that no one had ever returned from it.

But just because it never happened it didn't mean that it _couldn't_ happen.

The idea of the Veil being a method of execution wasn't as terrible as it had sounded the first time she heard it, especially if one compared it to Azkaban. Of course, Azkaban would have been the choice of the Wizengamot if they wanted to punish criminals, to make them suffer. But everyone knew that the law could be bent to favour certain people. Normally people with money. The Veil would have been preferred to the prison in that case. It was quicker, less painful and, some would think, a sort of more honoured death.

But there was also the hypothesis that the Veil hadn't been a method for the execution of prisoners. It could have been something else. Hermione just didn't know _what_. That's why she wanted to read Sluier's book. She had read all the reports so she knew that, despite the fact that he had, apparently, been a pure blood wizard with a profound hatred for Muggles, he had been criticised during his life because he considered the Veil a gate, a portal to the world of the dead. She needed to know what were his arguments, why he thought that. She was fervently hoping that his book didn't contain just a romanticised version of the Veil. Something useful for his plot. Something fictional.

But the Department of Mysteries had decided that the book was fictional and that it had been added to the list of restricted books. Everyone knew that fictional books were hardly ever sent to the restricted area. The book had to have something which was considered dangerous.

And considering that Sluier's book was the only one which mentioned the Veil, at least the only one the Department of Mysteries seemed to know of, it wouldn't take so long to read it and then write her report. And if she ended up finding out that the book was fictional then, at least, she wouldn't think "what if" in the future.

She just needed to confirm that the book was in the restricted area and then ask the head of the Department of Mysteries if she could take a look at it. If he didn't let her, well, she would just have to take advantage of her status as a war heroine and talk with the Minister. But she would only use such dishonest actions as her last resort.

Once again, Hermione walked to the counter of the library, where the librarian, Mr. Herbert Benson, was talking with some wizard and pointing at the doors, seeming to give directions to the wizard. Hermione chuckled. Maybe someone had ended up in the library wishing to be somewhere else.

When Hermione reached the counter, the librarian immediately asked for her badge.

"I don't wish to go into the library," she explained, looking apologetically at him.

The man glared at her and murmured something about her not being the first. Hermione almost laughed. It seemed the wizard he had talked to before her had indeed been asking for directions.

"And how can I help you..." he looked at her badge. "Miss Granger?"

"I wish to know if a specific book can be found in the restricted area."

Herbert Benson frowned. "Miss Granger, do you work for the Ministry?"

"No, I don't. No officially anyway. I'm in a project for the Department of Mysteries."

"Then you certainly know that you cannot have access to books of the restricted area," he said, as if he was talking to a child.

Hermione had to control the impulse of rolling her eyes. "Yes, sir, I am aware of that. The Head of the Department of Mysteries, William Geheim, said we couldn't have access to the restricted are," she admitted. "But I don't wish you to give me access to the book--"

"You don't?" he asked, frowning.

"I just wish to know if the book exists in this library," she explained with a small smile. "I know I am not forbidden to ask this. There's no rule about asking about books in the restricted area. I checked."

The librarian narrowed his eyes. He looked suspiciously at her. "Yes, Miss Granger. That is what we call an _unspoken_ rule," he said.

"But there is no _written_ rule about that, Mr. Benson. And I just wish to know if the book exists. You can tell me either yes or no. And I won't try to steal the book from the library if the answer is yes…"

He sighed, looking impatient. "What book are you seeking, Miss Granger?"

"It doesn't have a title… at least that I know of," she said, perfectly aware of the way he was looking at her. "_But_, I do know the author." she said.

The man sighed again. "Thank Merlin for that," he said. "Who's the author then?"

"Sluier."

"One moment, please" he said and with a flick of his wand a role of parchment appeared in the air. Hermione noticed it was like the one in Australia, when the man had asked for her name and had to search it in a list. This parchment, however, didn't glow.

"Miss Granger, I'm afraid the book _is unavailable_," he said.

Hermione felt her heat skip a beat. Had someone already been there asking for the book? Had someone, maybe one of her colleagues, gotten authorization from the Head to have access to the book?

"Uh... Was the book requested recently?" she asked, hesitantly.

He narrowed his eyes. "You can't possibly think I am going to divulge the time it was requested or the identity of the person, Miss Granger." he said, looking almost like a disappointed teacher.

Hermione knew very well that he couldn't give that information, but she _needed_ the book. "Would you, at least, be allowed to tell me if the book was requested a long time ago or if it as recently?" she asked. "Please, Mr. Benson, it is of extreme importance and I can promise you I will not use the information to cause any harm to--"

"Miss Granger, I cannot tell you that," he said, in a tone that showed he was losing his patience.

"I understand. But... Is there any chance you can inform me when the book returns to the library?"

"I can inform you if, by then, you are still in the project or working for the Ministry," he admitted.

Hermione nodded. "Okay, then please do it, sir" Hermione pleaded.

He nodded absently and Hermione left the library, thinking that it would be better to start working on her report and then add any information she found in the book.

_**

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**_

Hermione had started to divide the information she had found in the reports. She would write about the Veil being a possible execution method and about the Sluier's theory. She just hoped that whoever had Sluier's book, would finish and give it back to the library before November, otherwise she would have to rethink her plans.

She was planning the way she would write the information and the way the report would be organised when someone knocked on her door and opened it. Only one person was allowed to knock and open the door. Harry. Hermione quickly hid the several sheets containing information about the Veil. The last thing she needed was an illogically hopeful Harry. She didn't want him to be more disappointed.

"Hermione? Am I interrupting?" he asked, peeking from the door.

"Not really," she said, raising from her chair and opening the door so he would come in.

"Huh, I tried to get in contact with you since yesterday. I even thought of leaving you a note but I thought that I should probably tell you face to face"

"Did something happen?" Hermione asked quickly, eyeing him to check if he was okay. The last days she had been so concentrated planning what to write in her report that even if Kreacher had danced around in her room she wouldn't have notice.

He frowned. "Kind of."

"What? What happened?"

"Mrs. Weasley--" Harry started.

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. She _knew_ it. She knew she shouldn't have told Ron. Or, at least, she should have told the rest of the Weasley clan after telling Ron about her parents. It was a wonder Molly Weasley hadn't been waiting for her to return from the Ministry to comfort her and give her advice.

"Did she find out about my parents?" she asked, a note of desperation in her voice.

"What-- No!" Harry said, shaking his head in emphasis. "It's not that!"

"God, Harry, just say what it is..." Hermione said. "Is this about... about your dreams… is it?"

"My dreams?" Harry asked, seeming genuinely confused.

"You know..." she said, sighing. "Your dreams with... with Sirius."

Harry's green eyes sparkled in comprehension. "No... not that," he said. "Actually... I haven't dreamt of him since the day I talked to you." Harry admitted, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh?"

"I guess you were right. I was probably reading too much into them," Harry said. Hermione nodded slowly, waiting for him to say something else. "I guess I'm just working too much too," he said with a grin. "I don't even remember dreaming... It must be all that Auror training…"

Hermione smiled mischievously. "Auror training _and_ Ginny."

"Anyway," he quickly said to avoid more comments. "Anyway… you know you'll have to tell them soon, you know. Mrs. Weasley is probably planning on inviting your parents to Christmas and, I know it's still September, but you know how Mrs. Weasley is and---"

"Oh my God," Hermione murmured. "You're right... I have to tell them soon... Maybe I could tell Mr. Weasley firt..." she commented quietly, more to herself than to Harry. "He would know how to tell Mrs. Weasley... and, well, once Mrs. Weasley knows, everyone else will know..."

"Hermione, I don't know any good way of telling people someone died... But you need to tell them."

"You're right... I guess I'll just have to use my Gryffindor courage, eh?" she said, smiling reassuringly.

Harry nodded but he didn't look less worried. "I think you'll have to use your Gryffindor courage sooner than you expect..." he said slowly, looking at her attentively, waiting for her reaction.

Hermione looked up at his green eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked, with the same tone he had used.

"Hermione... did you forget?"

She blinked in confusion. "Did I forget about what?"

Harry sighed. "Your birthday," he finally said. "You do remember that last year Mrs. Weasley said that your birthday dinner would be at the Burrow."

Hermione gaped at him, unable to say anything. She had promised Molly Weasley that she would let her make a special dinner for her birthday at the Burrow. Hermione remembered that day. It had been in her nineteenth birthday, when she received a present from the matriarch of the Weasleys – another jumper. She had replied affirmatively but she never thought Molly Weasley would remember, which she realised, was silly of her. Of course the woman would remember. Hermione's birthdays had always been at Hogwarts and it would be the first time (if she didn't count the year before the war ended) that it wasn't.

Suddenly she wished she was still at Hogwarts.

She knew they were going to ask about their parents. The attention wouldn't be on Harry like last time. The attention would be on her.

_**

* * *

**_

The Weasley's kitchen wasn't exactly _big_. Despite having enough space for the long wooden table and a prominent fireplace, it was actually rather cramped. Almost suffocating. But to Hermione that could also be because she knew that one of the Weasleys could, at any moment, ask about her parents. She knew they would want to know about them. They were polite and they had actually liked the Grangers, especially Mr. Weasley, even if it had more to do with his fascination with Muggles.

All the eight places at the table were occupied. Not all the Weasleys were there, and Hermione silently thanked that. Bill and Fleur had stayed with Victoire in Shell Cottage and Charlie was in Romania.

When she had arrived at the Burrow with Harry, she had been surrounded by the Weasleys, who wished her happy birthday and handed her some presents, which she decided to open later. Then they had made her sit at the table and Mrs. Weasley had asked Ginny's help to bring the food to the table. Hermione had actually offered to help but Mrs. Weasley pushed her to the table.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Percy asked while Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were distracted, a red eyebrow raised at her. "You look paler than usual."

Mrs. Weasley quickly stopped finishing the food to check if Hermione had fever and glared at her son for scaring her unnecessarily.

Hermione gulped. "I'm fine, thank you, Percy," she said, in a quiet voice. Percy didn't seem convinced but didn't mention it again. He probably just didn't want his mother to glare at him.

"Hermione has been working too hard," Ron said quickly, trying to explain why Hermione could be pale, even though he knew that it was because of her parents. He elbowed Harry, who was between Ron and Hermione. "Right Harry?"

"Huhm?" Harry asked, turning to Ron, who looked intently at him. Hermione was sure they had planned something, probably to help her in case someone asked about her parents. "Yes! Yes, I… I don't see her very frequently since she started working for the Ministry" Harry said, trying to look normal, but failing. If the situation had been other, Hermione would have laughed at his face. Hermione noticed Ginny frowning and sending an inquisitive look at Harry, who avoided facing his girlfriend.

When the food was on the table and Molly Weasley asked for Hermione's plate, so she would be the first. She turned her soft eyes to Hermione and asked: "Hermione, dear, do you know if your parents have planned any trip?"

"Mum! Hurry up! I'm hungry!" Ron shouted.

Molly glared at him. "Quite frankly, Ronald, behave yourself. It's Hermione's birthday." she said, handing Hermione her plate. "Here you go, dear."

Hermione thought of starting to eat, so she wouldn't be able to talk, but that would have been rude of her, so she opted for drinking a glass of pumpkin juice.

"I was wondering, Hermione, you know… Because if they haven't planned anything yet--"

"But I'm hungry…" Ron whined, interrupting his mother again. Hermione winced. She knew Ron was making it on purpose, but she also knew that Molly Weasley wasn't the most patient person and if Ron kept on interrupting her he wouldn't probably be hurt by the end of the dinner.

"Stop interrupting me!" Molly snapped, waving the spoon in his direction. "Is the juice alright, dear?" she asked Hermione, who nodded energetically. "I just saw you making a strange face, dear, that's why I asked…" Mrs. Weasley admitted. "As I was saying," Molly said, glaring at her son, daring him to interrupt her one more time. "If they don't have anything planned, they could come here… or Grimmauld Place. I don't know where it would be better for the dinner to take place... It all depends on how many people will be present…" Molly said, filling everyone's plate but Ron's. "If your parents might come I say that the dining room in Grimmauld Place would be better. It has more space."

Hermione's heart was beating incredibly fast and her hands were trembling while she held the glass of juice.

"So?" Molly Weasley asked, finally filling Ron's plate, with less food than everyone else's.

Hermione bit her lip.

Everyone was looking at her. She didn't look at Harry or Ron. She knew she would find pity in their eyes.

"My parents won't come to Christmas," Hermione finally said, feeling a bit sick. She hoped it was because of all the juice she drank.

"Oh? That's too bad. Where are they going this year?"

Hermione licked her lips and avoided looking at anyone. "They… They… They--" she stuttered. "I am sorry…" she murmured, looking at the food on her place.

"What are you sorry about, dear? If they can't come it's--" Molly was interrupted by her husband, who was looking at Hermione intently. Molly frowned and then her eyes widened. "Oh dear! Did something happen?" she asked, staring at Hermione. "Didn't they forgive you, dear? But for Merlin! You were saving their lives! If you want I can speak to them dear…"

Hermione looked up from the plate. _Gryffindor courage. Gryffindor courage. Gryffindor courage_. She repeated in her head. "They had car accident." She finally said. "They died last year… Eleven months ago to be more precise." she said, her voice as steady as if she had been telling them how Muggles travel. Harry and Ron were looking at their plates. George and Mr. Weasley looked sympathetically at her; Percy just seemed to be listening to her, but she couldn't decipher his look. Ginny and Molly were different, though. Ginny seemed divided between running to comfort her and shout at her for not telling them sooner. Molly was looking horrified at her. Hermione just didn't know if it was because of her parents' death or because of her reaction. "I found out in July. I know I should have told you sooner but--"

Molly raised from her chair so quickly it fell. She rounded the table to go to Hermione, probably to comfort her, but Hermione jumped from her chair and shook her head at the woman.

"No!" Hermione shouted.

Molly Weasley stopped abruptly and frowned in confusion. The Weasleys and Harry looked from Hermione to Molly Weasley, no one knowing what to do or say.

"What, dear?" Molly asked quietly, stepping carefully towards Hermione.

Hermione stepped behind. "I don't--" she stopped and sighed. "I don't want you to talk about it."

Molly's eyes widened in what it seemed understanding. Hermione just didn't know what, exactly, Molly Weasley had understood.

"Hermione, we will take care of you. Don't worry--" the Weasley matriarch said.

"No! No..." Hermione murmured. "I just want you to... I just don't want you to mention it..."

"But Hermione-"

"I am sorry." Hermione said, before disapparating loudly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_October, 1999 _

Hermione had expected to hear from the librarian, Herbert Bensen, but so far, no owl had been sent, and she _needed_ the book. Hermione would have to give her report to Tobias Wenlock in a couple of weeks and she had already added Sluier's point of view in her report; she just needed the book to quote certain bits, to make it more believable.

Hermione wasn't surprised by the expression on the librarian's face. She knew Herbert Bensen wouldn't be happy to see her. She was just a bit surprised with the intensity of his displeasure. Hermione would bet her wand that he would rather have people asking him for directions than to have her asking him about the restricted, untitled book.

"Miss Granger," he greeted with fake amiability. "Are you here to work on your research?"

"In a way," Hermione admitted, nodding.

He sighed. "Miss Granger--"

"Mr. Bensen, is the book still unavailable? I thought that we could only request a book from this library for three weeks and then we would either give the book back or request it again. Am I not correct?" she asked, resting her hands on the counter.

"You are correct, Miss Granger." the librarian said, nodding.

"It's been a month, Mr. Bensen. The person should have given the book back--"

"The person should have given the book back long ago, Miss Granger," he said, in an almost angry voice. Hermione knew she was being too inquisitive and too noisy. She was making it on purpose. Everyone knew that when people got angry they would end up saying things they shouldn't.

Hermione started to feel nervous. "Are you telling me someone... someone _stole_ the book?" she asked, looking at him astonished. He opened his mouth to say something, some excuse, Hermione suspected, but she was faster. "If they haven't given the book back it is practically stealing," she said. "And no one has done anything about it? Wasn't it a restricted book? Aren't restricted books supposed to be taken seriously? Some of them shouldn't even leave the library!" Hermione ranted. "I can't believe this is---"

"Miss Granger, for Merlin's sake, do calm down. I was trying to speak but I could not with your insistent babble."

Hermione gaped at him, wondering if he was a relative of Severus Snape.

"The book you wished to have access to hasn't been in the possession of the Ministry for years, Miss Granger. I was an apprentice at the time it was requested," he said, rolling his eyes. "It was forty three years ago. The book was practically forgotten. I advise you to start searching for something else."

"But... why didn't anyone do anything? You certainly know who he was..."

"Yes, we knew who had it and we did something, Miss Granger. The wizard said he didn't know where the book was," the librarian rolled his eyes. "Most certainly a lie, but no one could prove he was wrong."

"Well, there was always _Veritesarum,_" Hermione said, half mocking.

The man looked at her amused. "I don't think anyone would go that far for a book. Besides, the man was... very intelligent."

"Some people would probably kill for certain books, sir."

"Yes, well, Sluier's book was a novel, Miss Granger, I don't think it will cause any harm."

Hermione sighed.

"But the person..." she started but stopped at his inquisitive eyebrow. "I know you can't tell me who the person is... but I _need_ the book. Do you think it will be impossible to--"

"Yes, Miss Granger. It is impossible. The man died not long ago," he snapped.

"Then his possessions! He could have left it to someone!"

"Miss Granger, why do you want this book so much?" he asked.

"I think I already mentioned that I am in a project for the Department of Mysteries--"

"Yes, but I don't think the Department would be interested in Literature, Miss Granger."

"Yes, well, you can't possibly think I would divulge that kind of information," she said, using the same words he had spoken to her when she asked for the book for the first time.

He narrowed his eyes at her, recognising his own words.

"Mr. Bensen, I just want to know why didn't anyone try to find the book. The book was in the restricted area for a reason. If what it contains is considered dangerous in some way, the Ministry should have done something!" she said, crossing her arms in her chest. "The book was either stolen from that wizard or he wanted the book to himself. If it was the first, he should have warned the Ministry; since that didn't seem to happen, I can only assume he wanted the book to himself and that makes him a criminal."

That did it. The librarian lost his patience and Hermione was sure he didn't start yelling at her because he was, after all, a librarian and they were in his library. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, girl! Do you honestly think anyone would consider doing anything to the former Headmaster of Hogwarts for keeping a _novel_ in his possession?" he hissed, his grey brows frowned at her and his cheeks slightly scarlet with irritation.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. The book had been requested forty three years prior. That had been 1956, and the former Headmaster had been in that position for only a year, having been the Transfiguration teacher before that.

"_Albus Dumbledore,_" she murmured, her voice trembling in realization. "Albus Dumbledore was the last person who had access to Sluier's book?" she asked, but she didn't need an answer from the librarian. She knew she was right.

She turned her back to him and started striding quickly across the library's lobby, towards the doors of the library. She heard the librarian calling her name but she ignored him. She had to send a letter to Headmistress McGonagall.

* * *

_November, 1999_

Minerva McGonagall's letter to Hermione had arrived two weeks after Hermione had sent hers. Hermione would have to go to Hogwarts in December, during the holidays. She was almost disappointed. She hadn't been able to add some passages of the book in her report, which she had already given to Tobias Wenlock. She had gone purposely to the Department of Mysteries, instead of just sending it with an owl. And she hadn't been the only one thinking of it. Clarisse had arrived minutes after Hermione, and when both girls left the Department, Clarisse had told Hermione to start looking for another job. Hermione had ignored her.

Without having to research for her report and with the library of Grimmauld Place neatly organised, Hermione found herself without much to do, which was something that terrified her. She started analysing her behaviour at the Burrow, at her birthday dinner. She had felt guilt, remorse, disappointment and even disgust; but she hadn't felt unhappy. She hadn't shed one tear. She hadn't wanted Molly Weasley to get near her. She knew the woman would have started patting her back and saying everything would be okay. Everything wouldn't be okay. Not as long as Hermione didn't find out what was wrong with her.

She remembered Mrs. White, her parents' neighbour, telling her husband that Hermione was probably in shock, and that she wouldn't like to be near her the day she exploded. Maybe that had been the reason she hadn't wanted Molly Weasley, Ron or even Harry to comfort her. She was afraid of exploding in front of them. That was another problem, though. She hadn't exploded even when she was alone and safe in her bedroom. She felt almost normal. But she wasn't. If she were, she would be mourning her parents. Instead, she could only feel guilty for not being able to mourn them.

Surprisingly, the Weasleys and Harry had given her space. She was sure the responsible for that had been Arthur Weasley. The wizard had most certainly asked his family to leave her alone. She could practically imagine him telling his wife that if Hermione needed, she knew where she could find them; she knew they would be there for her. But only she could choose whether to go or not. And she had chosen. She didn't want to go.

Hermione opened the drawer where she had hid the sheets of her plans for the report from Harry. Under all the sheets there was an envelope. The envelope Felicity White had given her. The envelope with the keys of her parents' house in Australia.

Someday she would have to go there. She didn't want anyone to go with her but she didn't think she would be capable of entering in the house which had been her parents' home alone. A fake home. She had never been there but she knew that it wasn't her parent's _real_ home. It was part of the fake world she created in order to protect them. A fake world which had cost them their lives.

* * *

_December, 1999_

Hermione had tried not to think much about the fact that Albus Dumbledore had been the last person to have access to Sluier's book. It just made her wonder too many things. For how long did he have the book? Why didn't he give it back to the library of the Ministry? Had he suspected the book wasn't fictional? Had he known it was about the Veil? If he had known, why had he been interested in it? Had it been plain curiosity or something more? Hermione knew that Dumbledore had been one of the people who had told Harry that Sirius was dead. Had he found that information in the book?

After being given the proper password, the gargoyle statue let Hermione have access to the spiral stone staircase which would take her to the Headmistress' office.

Once she was in front of the elegant oak door of the office, she lightly knocked at it. The door was immediately opened by magic and Hermione stepped inside the large circular room. The sunlight hit the enormous, claw-footed desk where Minerva McGonagall sat.

"Miss Granger, it is always a pleasure to see you," the women greeted amiably.

"It's always a pleasure to be back," Hermione said to her former teacher but nodding in the direction of Albus Dumbledore's large portrait, which was hung behind the desk.

In her letter, Hermione had explained that she needed to visit Hogwarts because she was interested in a book that had been in the possession of Albus Dumbledore and since Minerva McGonagall hadn't refused to receive her, she could only assume that she would be allowed to have access to the book. Her former teacher was a very direct person. If Hermione hadn't been allowed to, at least, talk about the book, the Headmistress would have informed her in her letter.

Hermione walked towards the desk, absorbing her surroundings. She had always liked the idea of being kept a portrait of every Headmaster and Headmistress. She had been very disappointed when no portrait of Severus Snape had been hung on the walls of the office. She had been told that it had been because Severus Snape had been a Headmaster for very little time. She thought it was unjust. He had been a Headmaster, regardless of the length of time he had possessed the title. However, Hermione had to admit, it would have been really strange to have his portrait there.

Hermione sat on the chair while Minerva McGonagall looked intently at her.

"Why do you want Sluier's book, Miss Granger?" the Headmistress asked, going directly to the subject of Hermione's visit.

Hermione sighed. "As you know, I am in a project for the Department of Mysteries," Hermione started.

Minerva McGonagall nodded. "Yes, you mentioned it in your letter."

"Well, you are certainly familiar with the incantation present in the Goblet of Fire," Hermione stated, waiting until the witch nodded. "The Department used the same incantation to divide the apprentices in order to give them an object of study. I was chosen to be in the group which studied the Veil." she continued, avoiding looking at Dumbledore's portrait. "I analysed several reports and in some of them Sluier was mentioned.. As well as his book."

Hermione shifted in the chair, aware that all the figures in the portraits were looking at her. "We couldn't find any information about him in the Department of Mysteries so my colleagues searched in the archives of the Departments of Magical Law Enforcement… with no success." she admitted. "There were no records. We couldn't find anything about him. Well… we thought that, perhaps, he lived during the Middle Ages, when the Ministry still wasn't very worried in possessing these kind of information about the wizards and witches."

Hermione quickly glanced at Dumbledore's portrait, just to find his piercing blue eyes looking directly at her. She looked away from those eyes and continued: "We knew, through the reports, that Sluier believed that the Veil was a sort of gate, a portal to the world of the dead. Some others stated that it was a special, restricted execution method... and I believe both theories can be associated. Anyway, when I discovered that Sluier's book had been considered fiction and it had been sent to the restricted area of the library of the Ministry I concluded that it must have some confidential - maybe even dangerous - information about the Veil."

"And…" Minerva McGonagall said. "How did you find out that Albus had been the last person to request the book? I know they can't give that kind of information…"

"I think I irritated the librarian…" Hermione admitted. She heard Albus' portrait chuckle. "And he… let it slip."

The Headmistress seemed shocked. "He shouldn't work there, then! Did he say that it had been Albus Dumbledore?"

"No!" Hermione said quickly. "He didn't say it had been Professor Dumbledore; he said the book had been in the possession of a Hogwarts Headmaster for forty three years."

"But the question is still the same, Miss Granger," the Headmistress said. "Why do you want the book?"

"I just want to read it, Professor. I want to know what Sluier's arguments were…"

"Very well, Miss Granger," Minerva McGonagall said, sighing in defeat. "You will have to go to the restricted area of the library," she said, handing her a piece of parchment which would allow her into the restricted area. "I think Madam Pince is there now. I warned her you would go there, but take the authorization, just in case…"

"You… you kept the book in the library for all this time?" Hermione asked the portrait.

"Actually, Miss Granger," the portrait of Albus Dumbledore said. "I gave it to someone who would never imagine it as nonfictional, simply because that person didn't know - and had no means to ever know - about the Veil," he explained.

"But… someone could have read it and realised it was nonfictional--- I mean, it is nonfictional, isn't it?" Hermione asked, blushing.

"Yes, Miss Granger, _I_ believe it is nonfictional," Dumbledore's portrait said, seeming almost sad. "Although I never had the chance to prove if what you will find in the book is true or not."

Hermione nodded, raisin from the chair, intending to leave, but before she had time to reach the door, Minerva McGonagall called her.

Hermione stopped to face her former Head. "Headmistress?"

"After you read Sluier's journal…" Headmistress McGonagall said, opening a drawer and taking a book with a black cover. "Read this. Call it… supplementary reading," she said, handing her a black book.

Hermione looked curiously from the book to the witch. "Is it another book about the Veil?" she asked.

"In a way, Miss Granger" Dumbledore's portrait said, tilting his head, as if he had forgotten of the limitations of his frame. "It's a journal."

"Sluier's journal?" Hermione asked with widened eyes.

"No, not Sluier's," the portrait said. "Gabriel's, his apprentice."

"His apprentice…" Hermione murmured. "Why wasn't the book kept here like Gabriel's journal?"

The figure of the portrait sighed. "I knew that, eventually, I would be asked about the book. I gave it to Madam Prince and told her to keep it away until I said otherwise. In that way, when I was asked where the book was, I answered the truth. I didn't know."

"But… Why Madam Pince?"

She could swear the portrait's blue eyes had twinkled. "I knew that after reading it, she wouldn't let anyone touch it. Madame Prince likes to read novels… and that book could be a great one."

"She thinks it's fictional," Hermione murmured, opening the journal. "It's handwritten," Hermione stated, marveling at the calligraphy. "It doesn't look from the Middle Ages, though…"

"Why do the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries think that Sluier lived during the Middle Ages? The fact that they had no records of Sluier doesn't mean he had to live during that period…" Minerva McGonagall spoke from behind the Headmistress' huge desk.

Hermione turned to face her with the book on her hands. "It's just a theory. The reports were a bit old and most of them, the oldest ones, the ones which contained information of the earliest days of the Veil and those which mentioned Sluier had spots and marks, which made it a bit hard to decipher some of the words and numbers."

"Miss Granger, Sluier didn't live during the Middle Ages," Dumbledore's portrait said. "He lived in the 17th century."

Hermione looked at him surprised. "How do you know that?"

"It's in the book. It has several entries, all of them are dated. Sluier was a very organized wizard, Miss Granger."

Hermione stared at Gabriel's journal, marveling at the idea of reading something that only few had. She had thousands of questions to Dumbledore, but she decided to wait. She would certainly find out about what Sluier and Gabriel thought of the Veil. Maybe she would know who created it and why. Maybe she would even read about how it was built, what sort of magic had been used. If, in the end, she still had questions, she could always return to Hogwarts and ask Dumbledore's portrait.

"Does the book contain all the answers regarding the Veil?" she asked, looking at the painting.

"Only you can tell if it answered your questions, Miss Granger," he said gravely.

After a couple of seconds looking at the portrait, Hermione asked, hesitantly: "Did it answer yours?"

The portrait of Albus Dumbledore looked almost sad. "Yes, Miss Granger, it did. But that doesn't mean I liked the answers."

_**H**_

Hermione still found it a bit reckless of Dumbledore to give the book to Madam Pince. It wasn't because Hermione didn't trust the witch. Madam Pince would definitely take good care of any book, but still, any student with an authorization of a Professor could have access to the restricted area. She could only hope that if any student had showed interest in Sluier's book, Madam Pince wouldn't have allowed the student to take the book from the library.

As the Headmistress had said, Madam Pince was in the library. She was in her desk, calmly reading a book. Hermione would bet that the holidays were Madam Pince's favourite time of the year. She didn't need to protect her precious books from the monsters that dared to search something in them.

Madam Pince turned her eyes up to Hermione and sighed.

"Miss Granger," she said with her irritating voice. "The Headmistress warned me you would need a book from my restricted area."

"Yes, it's Sluier's book," Hermione said.

"Sluier? John Sluier?" Madam Pince asked.

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know his first name…"

"I only know a Sluier," Madam Pince commented, raising a thin eyebrow. "You are talking about the story of an unnamed man and Lavinia, isn't it?"

"Er… I suppose… It has a Veil… in the story, I mean," Hermione said, praying that she hadn't said too much.

"Ah, yes, then it is… it's an arc with a veil, actually, Miss Granger, not just a veil," Madam Pince corrected, frowning, before leaving her to get the book.

When Madam Pince returned, she carefully handed the thin book. Hermione studied it for a couple of seconds. It had no title. It only had the author's name: John Sluier. She opened it and she noticed it wasn't handwritten like Gabriel's journal.

"Miss Granger," Madam Pince started. "I must ask you to be specially careful when dealing with that book."

Hermione took her eyes from the book and stared at the librarian.

"You see, the book is very special… It is one of my favourite, actually."

Hermione nodded. "Don't worry; I'll be extra careful with this book…" Hermione looked at the nearly empty dark cover again. "What is it about?" she asked, wanting to know what a person who believed the book was fictional thought.

For a moment Madam Prince seemed to be pondering about the best way of answering. When she finally turned her eyes to Hermione, she didn't look like the strict, irritable woman Hermione had known. Madam Pince looked devastated.

"It is about love, Miss Granger."

_**H**_

"Do you think she will do anything, Albus?" Minerva McGonagall asked the portrait from her wooden desk, right after Hermione Granger had left the office.

"I am certain she will, Minerva. You know Miss Granger. She is a brilliant and very determined witch, almost to the point of being obstinate. But those are some of the reasons why I always admired her… and feared for her."

"I do know how she can be, indeed…" Minerva McGonagall murmured, frowning. "Then, perhaps, we shouldn't have allowed her to take the book."

"What reason would you give her?" the portrait of Albus Dumbledore asked. Both of them knew Minerva McGonagall would never lie to Hermione. Hide information, definitely, but if the girl had asked why she couldn't take the book, and both knew she would, Minerva wouldn't have lied. She would have told her the truth. And the truth was in the book, so Hermione would have found it out either way. "We can only hope she uses it correctly," he said, his blue eyes darkened with worry. "We can only hope she isn't a fool."

_**H**_

The library had been one of Hermione's favourite rooms while she studied at Hogwarts. She had visited the fourth floor uncountable times, just to go to the library. She had never paid attention to the other rooms of the fourth floor, though. Even when she was a prefect, she had almost never used the prefect's bathroom and she had never been interested in going into the other room of the floor - even knowing very well what it had inside. It had never attracted her. She had never felt the need to see _it_.

But she felt it now. She had walked through the narrow corridor and opened the door of the room located at its end. At first she thought that they had taken it from there, but she had been wrong. She saw it, exactly as Harry had described. It was as high as the ceiling and it stood on two golden clawed feet. She wasn't standing in front of it, but she could still read the inscription, written in mirror writing.

Both Harry and Ron had stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. Hermione had never felt the need because she knew that what it showed wasn't real. As Dumbledore had told Harry, it showed _nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of the heart_.

Hermione had read about people who couldn't stop looking at what the mirror showed them. She knew that Harry had been slightly obsessed with what it had showed him, that's why he had returned to that room for several nights, until Dumbledore had talked to him and explained what the mirror was.

Hermione had known what she feared the most when she was 14, thanks to a Boggart. Many people had laughed at her Boggart, because it showed Professor McGonagall telling her she had failed in all her classes. People had laughed because they thought that she was only afraid of failing classes, but it wasn't that. She feared failing at everything. Failure wasn't something Hermione was used to.

But she had failed. She hadn't been successful in protecting her parents.

Her parents were the reason Hermione was afraid of looking at the mirror.

She wasn't afraid that they would be the image the mirror showed her. Hermione feared they wouldn't be in the image; she was afraid they weren't the one thing she desired the most.

Hermione stepped forwards, in the direction of the mirror. She had been a coward when she ran from the Weasleys. She wasn't going to step back from this.

With a final step, Hermione stood in front of the Mirror of Erised, looking straight at the glass, waiting for an image to appear. When it did and Hermione saw it, she ran.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_January, 2000_

Hermione had spent all her time with Sluier's book and Gabriel's journal on her hands. She had read them several times, she had taken notes and sometimes she would go to the Black's library and check some information about the period in which Sluier and Gabriel had lived in the large collection of History books. She had only stopped to spend some time with the Weasleys and Harry on Christmas Eve and New Year Eve. They had only talked to her when it was absolutely necessary. She knew they felt uncomfortable in her presence so she would sit in a sofa or chair and read Sluier's book.

She was pretty much obsessed with it.

The more she read, the more she wanted to read. Sluier had been a marvelous writer; it was almost poetically written. She could understand why the book had been considered fictional, why it had become Madam Pince's favourite novel. She could even understand why it had been sent to the restricted area. Hermione even suspected she knew the reason Dumbledore had wanted the book.

If Sluier had been right, it would have been pure, clear chaos.

The book had answered pretty much all her questions about the Veil but one.

She knew who created the Veil and when; she knew the reason behind the creation and what it did; she knew the consequences of the existence of the Veil and she read about a way to sort of reverse what it did.

However, neither the book nor the journal explained _how_ the Veil had been created. She was both relieved and disappointed with that fact.

Madam Pince had been right. The book was about love. Love, Hermione could witness one more time, was the most powerful form of magic. Hermione found out that more than an enchantment, the Veil had needed Ancient Magic. The Veil had needed a very powerful, unending resource.

That resource had been _his_ love. _His_ love for her. _His_ love for Lavinia.

Madam Pince had been wrong when she said that the story was about Lavinia and an unnamed man. There was no unnamed man. That character, that person was Sluier himself. Sluier had been the author _and_ the main character.

John Sluier had been born in 1658. He had been a remarkably intelligent wizard, having been particularly good in Charms. During his adolescence, he had been extremely interested in the culture of the Muggles. However, at that time, that was pretty much unthinkable, so he hid his fascination.

When he became of age, he started working for the Ministry of Magic, in the Committee On Experimental Charms. Despite his great position in the Ministry, he had wanted more, so he hired a friend of his, Gabriel Geel, a couple of years younger than him and, when he had free time, he worked on his inventions.

He then met Gabriel's sister, Lavinia Geel, whose golden locks and her distinctive demeanour captivated him. It didn't take long for the Geels to realise John Sluier was a great party for their daughter.

Two years later, a month before they wedded, Lavinia was caught by Muggles while performing an enchantment. Before she had time to protect herself, they took her wand from her and imprisoned her. But the imprisonment didn't last long. A day or two later, she was burnt at the stake for witchcraft.

The witch-hunt wasn't taken as a really important and serious matter. Witches were supposed to know how to protect themselves, and because it wasn't taken seriously, John Sluier didn't know about Lavinia's imprisonment until it was too late. When he arrived at the Muggle village and cast a _Confundus Charm_ on the Muggles who were watching Lavinia's execution, she was already dead - the toxic gases had poisoned her.

From that moment on, his Muggle fascination vanished and it was replaced by pure hatred. He joined a group of pure-blood wizards and five years after the death of his fiancée, John Sluier and his group were responsible for the official establishment of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. From that day on, the wizarding world and the muggle world became apart.

Having succeeded in, at least, avoiding that other witches had the same fate as Lavinia, Sluier had time to mourn her. Instead of keeping working for the Committee On Experimental Charms, he stayed at home. For months he had only thought of Lavinia. In life, she had been his love; when she died, she became his obsession. Bringing her from the dead became his only purpose.

He knew, though, that the Ministry was paying attention at his activities. Everyone knew he was an inventor and particularly good at Charms, so before he started working on something that would take him to her, he started thinking of a way that the object would be useful for the Ministry. Somehing that would benefit both parties.

A year later he found a solution. An execution method. Something that would take people for the world of the dead. There was a problem. Yes, he had to go, and that would be the perfect way, but he wanted to return with her; and if the object killed him, he didn't know if he would see her again, but he knew he wouldn't return. He spent years trying to find a way of going to the world of the dead without being really dead.

Meanwhile, he had made a special request to the goblins. A golden mirror. In two years, Sluier created something that alleviated a bit his spirits and made him keep on wanting to work in his project. The Mirror of Erised. Instead of one's reflexion, the object would mirror one's deepest wishes. The mirror showed him Lavinia alive with him.

Soon, he spent all his time looking at the glass, at her, until Gabriel took him away from it and locked the door in such a way that even Sluier wasn't capable of entering in the room.

In his journal, Gabriel didn't describe how Sluier's spells and objects were crated. He only took note of them and described what they did; so it was no surprise when Hermione didn't find any information of how the Veil had been made.

She knew the Veil was a product of Sluier's obsession, but she didn't know _how_ it had been built, even if she knew what sort of magic had been used to create it. Hermione knew that, after Gabriel locked the room where the Mirror of Erised was kept, Sluier started working on his project again. Somehow, he found a solution to his problem. He made it possible for the Veil to (in some way) choose who, once having fallen through it, would return or who would be kept away from the living. Sluier created the perfect judge. The Veil wouldn't let the guilty return. On the other hand, if a wizard was innocent, he would return.

In his journal, Gabriel described how fascinating the process was, but how terrifying the idea of that practice actually was. He had tried to stop Sluier from any test, but Sluir had made up his mind. He was going to step into the Veil. After all, he had never committed any crime. Once Gabriel spoke the enchantment Sluier had created, he would return. Hopefully, he would return with her.

And he did return, but he came alone.

Months later, when he was going to try again, Sluier suffered a major setback. The Ministry had found out the Veil and, somehow, they had managed to move it to the Ministry Headquarters.

In a desperate action, Sluier explained that the Veil was an execution method, the safest method of execution, since it would keep inside it those who were guilty, but if they were innocent, they would be returned to the world of the living. To Sluier's contentment, the Ministry wanted proves, so Sluier had convinced two men to participate in his project. Two men, one innocent and one guilty. According to both the book and the journal, it had worked. The innocent had returned after Sluier had spoken his enchantment.

After that, Sluier had asked the Ministry for two months for him to analyse his own creation. Surprisingly, they had given him access to the Death Chamber, which, after he had proved the Veil's potentiality, had been moved to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. When Sluier and Gabriel were left alone, he decided to do it again. But this time he would have to be inside it for longer. In that way he could find her.

Gabriel had been reluctant. Sluier hadn't even told him what he had seen or done when he stepped through the Veil the first time. He hadn't answered any of his questions and he had avoided him, until, of course, he had needed his help once again.

Sluier had been a genius, but, in his desperation, he forgot one of the basic laws of the magical world. Death is final. No magic can raise those who are dead.

Hermione suspected that by then, Sluier was slightly unbalanced. He had been obsessed over a dead person for so many years, for most of his life, and when he found out that his masterpiece didn't work in the way he wanted it to work, he was devastated. It was even worse when he realised that the Veil was, indeed, the most reliable method of execution.

However, the Ministry had lied. They were spying Sluier and Gabriel and after Sluier fell from the Veil the second time, they invaded the Chamber and Gabriel was sent to Azkaban, where he stayed until he died, decades after his imprisonment.

The reports which gave specific information about the Veil were burnt or kept in a safe in Gringotts. People who knew of the existence of the Veil were Obliviated. The Death Chamber was moved from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to the Department of Mysteries. Sluier's journal was transformed into a book and sent to the restricted area of the library of the Ministry.

However, no one had known about Gabriel's journal.

_February, 2__000_

"Why didn't you do anything, Professor?" Hermione asked to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

When she found out that in the journal was described the enchantment that would bring those who were innocent from the Veil, Hermione had immediately sent an owl to the Headmistress. She needed to speak with the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. She needed to understand why he hadn't done anything. While she waited for the day she could go to Hogwarts again, she had been able to calm herself. He could have done something. He could have brought those who were innocent from the Veil. He could have brought Sirius back. He had to have had a reason not to do it.

"I know what you are thinking, Miss Granger," he said, in a sad voice. "You are wondering why I didn't do anything about… Sirius Black's situation."

Hermione nodded absently. She noticed the other portraits, especially Phineas Nigellus Black's, paying attention to their conversation.

"Two reasons, Miss Granger," Dumbledore's portrait said. "First, only those who work for the Department of Mysteries have access to the individual rooms. Those who don't work there, or don't have the authorization of either the Head of the Department or the Minister, can only go to the entrance – and, as you can imagine, most of them get lost in the way..."

Hermione looked at him, not believing that _that_ had prevented Albus Dumbledore of doing something that would help someone, something that would help _Harry_.

"Surely you could have--" Hermione started.

"Of course I could," he admitted, knowing exactly what she meant before she even mentioned it. "But I chose not to. You see… and this is the second reason… I was helping Harry."

"What?" Hermione uttered, blinking in confusion.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, do you know what Sirius Black was to Harry?"

For a couple of seconds she stood gaping at the portrait, shocked.

"Everything," she murmured. "Sirius was the only family Harry had left."

"Indeed, Miss Granger. Sirius Black was the one person Harry would do anything in his power to keep safe, to protect."

"I know that," she said almost brusquely. "That's why we flew to the Department of Mysteries when he thought he was being tortured."

"Yes! Did you see what he did for Sirius Black?" the portrait asked, nodding vigorously. Hermione frowned at him, confused. "Miss Granger," he murmured soothingly. "When Bellatrix killed Sirius, what did Harry want to do?"

"He wanted to kill her." Hermione answered automatically. Everyone had wanted that. Not only for Sirius but for Harry too.

"And Voldmort." The portrait added. "More than anything, he wanted to kill him, to end with his life, because it was his fault. He had been the responsible for the death of all his family"

Hermione nodded. She knew that. Everyone did. "Yes… but--"

"If I had brought Sirius Black from the Veil, do you think Harry would have done what he did in the final battle? He wouldn't have risked so much, Miss Granger; he wouldn't have wanted to lose everything. But he didn't have much, did he?"

Hermione stared at him. "Oh my God…" she murmured.

"Do you understand?" Dumbledore asked. At the same time she could hear Phineas Nigellus muttering something. She looked at his painting, seeing him staring intently at Dumbledore's.

"Of course I understand!" she snapped, looking back at Dumbledore's portrait. "You kept Harry away from his only family so that he would be a weapon of mass destruction for the final battle"

"It was necessary"

"It was _un_necessary, Professor" Hermione said. "If Sirius had been there-"

"--he would have only been a distraction to Harry. Ginevra Weasley almost was a distraction to Harry. Imagine if Sirius had been with him"

"He could have helped!"

"What's done it's done, Miss Granger. I do not regret what I did."

Hermione knew that she wouldn't be allowed much time in the Headmistress' office, so instead of trying to understand his motives right there, she decided to ask him something else.

"How did you get the journal?"

He looked at her intently, as if studying her. "Before Gabriel was arrested, he asked his parents to give all his books, notebooks and some objects to Hogwarts. After a quick analysis, the books were sent to the library, but his notes were kept in an archive. Those documents were pretty much forgotten, until I became a Headmaster and studied them myself. As you can imagine, I found the concept of the Veil quite... _appealing_"

It was Hermione's turn to study the wizard. Magical portraits were one of the things that had shocked her the most when she found out about the wizarding world. She knew that to create a portrait, the artist would need the memories, the _essence_ of the person, but the fact that it was so real, so very similar to a human being was shocking. She knew she wasn't talking to Dumbledore. But his portrait had his memories; it reacted the same way Dumbledore would and it said what Dumbledore would say in a certain situation. Right then, the portrait had been making an obvious mention to Dumbledore's greatest desire. If Dumbledore had had access to the Veil, he would have wanted to have his family restored.

"That's why you kept them here, near you?" she asked. "You wanted to try it yourself?"

"You certainly understand it… Wouldn't you do it for your parents?" the portrait asked, fidgeting, as if he knew it was wrong to wish that.

Hermione felt like she had been hit in her stomach and turned her head away from the painting, hoping he wouldn't notice her expression. Even if he was just a painting and not a person, she didn't want _him_ finding out, just by looking at her, that she hadn't thought of her parents. She had only thought of those who fell through the Veil.

"It's not possible," she said with steady voice.

"Sluier returned. How would you explain that?"

"Professor…" she said, shaking her head. Was he testing her? "Death is final. Sluier just… he just invented a way to find out if a certain person is innocent or not. He didn't return with her. He came alone"

"Maybe he didn't have enough time to find her."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "That's not--"

Before she had time to add something else, the Headmistress came into the office and told her that she couldn't stay any longer, because she was going to have a meeting there. Hermione raised from the chair, thanked the Headmistress and walked to the wooden door.

"What are you going to do, Miss Granger?" the portrait asked, before she opened the door.

She glanced at the wizard in the portrait and opened the door. "An experiment," she said, closing the door soundlessly behind her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_March,__ 2000_

For half a hour, Hermione had been looking for Harry. She had tried the places where he could frequently be found: his room, the kitchen and the bathroom. When she didn't find him, she proceeded to search in other places, like the tapestry room, the living room and when she still didn't find him she took desperate measures and went to the library and her own bedroom. She was standing at her bedroom's entrance when she heard footsteps on the floor above hers. She sighed and soundlessly prayed he wasn't in a dark mood.

The rotten, wooden staircase led her to the fourth floor, where there were only two doors. The one on the right leading to Regulus Black's bedroom, which was pretty much ignored, and the one on the left leading to Sirius Black's room. The door to Sirius Black's was open and Hermione could see someone sat on the gloriously sizeable bed.

With her footsteps echoing with each step, Hermione entered in Sirius' room for the first time in years.

She had always smiled at the sight of his room. She was surprised his parents hadn't burnt his room when he ran away from Grimmauld Place. Being in Sirius room was like being in the Gryffindor Tower when Gryffindor won the games. Sirius had decorated his big room with Gryffindor colours and banners and with posters of Muggle girls on bikes. She was silently glad they were Muggle posters, otherwise she was sure the girls would move in provocative ways.

Hermione sat next to Harry and they stayed in silence for a couple of minutes. He stretched his arms, placed his hands behind his neck and laid in the bed. After a while he grabbed Hermione's arm and made her lay at his side. Hermione shook her head in amusement when she noticed that even the roof was decorated with a lion and red.

"Do you think we should have changed the room?" Harry suddenly asked, looking at the roof.

Hermione shook her head. "I really don't know..."

He sighed noisily. "I wish we had a portrait of him…" he murmured.

"Yes," she said smiling. "That would have been interesting."

"Where would it be? Considering he chose the place… Hogwarts, you think?"

Hermione shook her head and her smile grew wider. "No, not Hogwarts. Here, in Grimmauld Place," she said, turning her head to look at her friend and see his reaction.

Harry turned to her, frowning, as she had expected. "He never liked it here."

"I know," Hermione said. "But I bet he would want his painting in front of his mothers'," Harry's eyes widened with that thought and Hermione chuckled. "I bet his mother's portrait would have _loved_ it. Can you imagine? Grimmauld Place would be uninhabitable!"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah…" he said, moving to lean on his elbows and looking at her intently.

"Have you been in…" he hesitated and proceeded to clear his throat. "Have you been in the Death Chamber? I mean… recently…"

Hermione snorted and shook her head. "I wish I had access to the rooms… I do less than what I used in that project. It's quite shameful, actually… The only room I'm sometimes allowed is the Hall of Prophecies… not the most interesting one…"

Harry shook his head. "You still don't trust Divination?"

"No…" she said, carefully. "Harry?"

"Huhm?"

"Are you uncomfortable with my position in the Department of Mysteries?"

He looked at her. "Not uncomfortable…"

"I could give up, you know?" she said, even if what she was thinking was that after what she wanted to do, she would most certainly be fired.

"Would you work in another Department?" Harry asked, looking curiously at her. Hermione almost snorted. If she did was she wanted, she wouldn't be accepted in any position in the Ministry, not even as a gatekeeper.

"I don't know. I still don't know if this is what I want," she admitted.

"Have you ever thought of going to some Muggle University?"

She smiled. "I have thought of it… But what would I study?"

Harry shrugged. "I dare say you could study anything."

"I feel terrible for not knowing what to do," she admitted.

"Wasted talent," he murmured, grinning at her.

Hermione playfully hit him in the arm. "Oh shut up."

_**

* * *

**_

In the beginning of March, Hermione had been informed she had gotten one of the three positions in the Department of Mysteries. In the same day, she received several letters congratulating her. They had been from the Weasleys, Kinglsey Shaklebolt, William Geheim and Tobias Wenlock.

It had been two weeks since she had gone to a meeting with the Head of the Department, W. Geheim, and met the other two interns. She had briefly talked with her colleagues during several lunches. One of them was Martha Duke, daughter of the lead guitar of the Weird Sisters, who, during the Department's project, had been studying Time-Turners; the other intern was called James Margolyes and, during the project, he had been chosen to work in the Hall of Prophecies, but he had spent most of his time reading reports about the prophecies; he was genuinely surprised when Hermione commented that her colleagues and her had been the ones who had sorted the reports and only because f that he had been able to find all the reports about the Hall of Prophecies.

Hermione had been highly disappointed when the Head told them that the the three of them would be helping the Unspeakables who where working in the Hall of Prophecies. They had been named to enter in contact with a certain number of wizards and witches who had prophecies about them, but most of the time they were simple assigned to follow one of the Unspeakables and write down whatever developments they came upon.

In the beginning of her third week, when Hermione reached the small hall where the lifts could be found, she almost wished she had stayed in Grimmauld Place with Harry.

"Miss Granger," the tall wizard greeted.

"Mr. Fletchey," she said, nodding her head slightly.

She had hoped she wouldn't see him again. It wasn't that he made her uncomfortable; but she couldn't help remembering his - not so well camouflaged - remarks about her being where she was because she knew how to take advantage of the fact she knew, or had known, eminent wizards, namely Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and, more recently, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"So, you were one of the chosen? I shouldn't be surprised…" he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Here we go again_, she thought to herself. Thomas Fletchey was a bit of an arrogant arse, but she had given up bothering about what most people said or thought about her since the Daily Prophet published an article which commented her refusal in participating with Harry, Neville and Ron in the reformation of several institutions of the Ministry (in which they hadn't started yet, since they still had a year and a half to complete to become Aurors), where it was stated she was _an insolent, arrogant Muggle-born witch, who audaciously refused to help the world which had received her with arms wide open_, amongst other things.

"I work for the Department of Magical Sports and Games," he announced, nodding at the person who had just entered in the lift.

"_Charming_," Hermione breathed, pressing a button in the panel of the left.

"Hey, Hermione," someone called.

She looked up at the wizard who had just entered in the lift and smiled, mentally thanking Merlin.

"Jonathan Abbot."

He was smiling when he pressed the button with a two in it.

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" Hermione asked.

He nodded, smiling. "I was offered a position in the offices."

"Congratulations," she said, smiling. Thomas Fletchey was completely forgotten. "You will have a lot of work, though. That Department is pretty much a mess because of the war."

"I know," he said nodding. "See you around?" he asked, when the lift stopped in the level of the Department of Mysteries.

"Probably," Hermione said smiling. _Not_, she mentally added.

When Hermione had left the office of the Hogwarts Headmistress, she had told Albus Dumbledore's portrait she would carry out an experiment. That experiment would have only been possibly if she had access to the Department of Mysteries, which at the time she didn't, since her participation in the project had been complete. But now that she worked for the said Department, she could start planning the best way to do it. Or maybe she would just do it.

_Yes, and that will definitely cost your job_, she murmured to herself. _What am I saying? I'm going to lose it anyway…_

To have access to the Hall of Prophecies, one had to walk across the Time Room. It wasn't the only way, but it was the shorter and safer way. She didn't pay much attention to that room while she walked towards the door which would allow her into the Hall of Prophecies. She only stopped to greet Tobias Wenlock, her former tutor, who had resumed his work in the Time Room when the project had been complete.

She walked into the Hall of Prophecies and turned to go to the row of shelves the Unspeakable she would be working with that day had been assigned. When she reached the row, he asked her to take notes of what he was going to mention so Hermione reached to the inside of her messenger bag and took one of the notebooks she had, but instead of a notebook, she took Gabriel's journal. For a couple of seconds she stood in the middle of two dusty shelves, staring at the journal, only stopping when the Unspeakable called her name. She quickly got her notebook and started taking notes.

Three hours later, he stopped his lecture and told her she could go to lunch and then return. When Hermione put her notebook and quill inside her bag, she glanced at the journal.

Everyone knew that during lunchtime, the Ministry Headquarters became pretty much deserted. She glanced at the Unspeakable, who was walking towards the exit of the room and followed him.

When they reached the long corridor, which could lead either to the offices of the Unspeakables or to the exit of the Department, he turned to her and said, while entering in his office: "See you later, Miss Granger."

"See you later, sir."

Hermione urgently glanced around her. She worriedly bit her lower lip and made a decision. Taking a deep breath she started walking towards the doors which would take her to the Death Chamber. She was constantly glancing at her surroundings, especially because she knew that if someone saw her, she would have to explain why she was walking in the opposite direction of the exit of the Department.

"Miss Granger?" someone called from behind her.

Gasping, Hermione turned to face her captor. In front of her stood Tobias Wenlock with a golden eyebrow raised at her.

"It's lunch break. You should eat something. I know how internships are tiresome," he said, surprising Hermione, who was expecting a harsh, accusatory tone, and not genuine worry.

"Er… bathroom," she blurted, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.

He lifted an eyebrow. "There's one near the Hall of Prophecies."

"It's occupied," she said, almost mechanically.

He looked at her for a couple of seconds and then nodded. "Ok, just don't forget to eat something."

"I won't," she said, feeling slightly relieved.

When he was out of sight, Hermione resumed her furtive activity. When she was in front of an imposing, black door, she looked around her and when she was sure there was no one in the proximity, she quickly slid inside the room. For a couple of seconds she just stood against the door, waiting for her heartbeat to return to its normal pace. She sighed heavily when the low temperature of the room hit her body, marking her skin with goose bumps.

She stood there, observing the chamber. It was huge; larger than she remembered. But then, the last time she had been to that particular room she hadn't had the time to pay much attention to her surroundings, yet being alone in the room and looking at the curtains hanging in the arch, which lightly swirled as if a breeze hit them, made it more enthralling. Dangerously so.

She looked at the stone benches, wondering how many people had been allowed to see the experiment of Sluier. She suspected they had expected it to be a failure, and so they had allowed a great amount of people to assist, considering the size of the room.

She also wondered if they had tried to destroy the Veil. It was highly probable, but they hadn't been able to do it. After all, Sluier had been a genius.

As she walked towards sunken pit, in the centre of the room, where the dais stood, her footsteps echoed noisily in the room. For a couple of times she stopped and looked in the direction of the main door, expecting someone to burst in and inform her she wasn't allowed in that room.

She climbed to the dais and when she stood in front of the Veil, with its curtains fluttering lightly, she considered turning her back and leaving the room. The ancient, stone arch was the most imposing thing Hermione had seen in all her life. But instead of leaving, Hermione stepped forward. That was when she heard them. Whispers. Almost as a reflex action, Hermione stepped even further, in order to hear better, to understand them, but a quickly as she had moved in the direction of the Veil, she stopped abruptly. She knew that if she stepped closer, she could end up falling and then no one could take them from there; no one would know how.

She reached for her brown messenger bag and took Gabriel's journal from it.

"I hope this works…" she murmured, glancing at the curtains.

She had read Gabriel's journal uncountable times, but she always took longer and had paid more attention to the pages in which he explained how he brought Sluier from the Veil. Even though she practically knew those passages by heart, she read them again.

_Of those who are lost, only the innocent__s can return. But only when the spoken words manifest the uncalculating nature of the action, they will be able to return._

She took a deep breath. If it didn't work, what was she going to do? And what if it _did_ work?

After taking another deep breath, she pointed her wand towards the Veil and spoke: "_Nruter eht stneconni otsiht dlrow_."

A silver jet of light erupted from the tip of her wand and it speeded towards the Veil. It whizzed around the ancient arch, cloaking it with its light. And suddenly, the light vanished.

Hermione stared at it, not daring to blink with the fear of losing something. When nothing happened she sighed, defeated. She was considering leaving the room and going to eat something when she heard the door being opened noisily.

"Miss Granger, what the hell are you doing here?"

She quickly turned her face to see Tobias Wenlock, but she moved again to look at the Veil when she heard the sound of the curtains moving rapidly. She felt a pang in her stomach. _Something_ happened.

In a second Tobias was at her side, looking from the Veil to Hermione, seeming alarmed. "What did you do!" he shouted.

"I… I…" Hermione stammered. Before she could answer, the curtains rose completely, fluttering rapidly, and the dark, aged drapery hit the stone of the arch noisily, repeatedly. Intense, bright light erupted from the inside the Veil, illuminating the whole chamber.

Hermione raised her hands to her eyes and turned her back to the Veil, so the light didn't hit her eyes directly. She felt Tobias bumping into her, making her fall on her knees.

Tobias was the first to turn to the Veil when the light ceased. Hermione still had her hands pressed in her eyes and when she opened them she had to blink a few times, to regain her sight. She heard Tobias gasping and Hermione turned to the Veil, black spots preventing her from seeing what had happened.

"Miss Granger, run and ask for help!" Tobias urged, grabbing her arms to help her stand and pulling her in the direction of the main door of the chamber.

"_Go_!" he shouted.

After blinking a few more times, Hermione turned and ran to the door, praying that she would bump into something or someone. Hermione didn't even glance behind, afraid of what she would see; of what she had done. She opened the main door of the Chamber and closed it as soundlessly as possible. Not bothering to check if someone had seen her, she ran through the long corridor and abruptly stopped when she reached the Head's office. She urgently knocked at his door, hoping he hadn't gone to lunch just yet. When he opened the door and saw her, he glared down at her.

"Miss Granger, what in the name of Merlin--" he stopped when he saw her leaning against he doorframe, her breath coming in soft pants.

"What happened?" he asked, his eyes drifting to look above her shoulder, as if expecting someone to be hunting her down.

"The Veil…" Hermione uttered, breathlessly. "Something happened."

His head snapped in her direction. "Stay here."

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_March, 2000_

When Willam Geheim told her to wait for him in his office and Hermione asked to go with him, his only response was locking her in his office. She spent several minutes uttering every single spell she knew of that could help her get out of there before he found out what she had done and called the Aurors, but she hadn't been able to unlock the door. Either he had used a spell he had created or Hermione was too upset to cast a simple Alohamora.

Panting in distress, Hermione paced nervously until she decided to just sit and wait. She knew they would have to, at least, hear her side of the story. She glanced around her and carefully took Gabriel's journal from her bag. She clutched it against her, repeating the process in her mind over and over again. In the journal, only the words which needed to be spoken and the two possible effects were described (as well as Gabriel's theory on why Sluier returned alone); there was no information about what happened after the words and before the effect. Hermione couldn't even try to analyse what happened because she hadn't really _seen_ what had happened – apart from the bright light which had erupted from the inside of the arch, illuminating the whole chamber and almost blinding her.

Hermione didn't know exactly how many hours she had been locked inside the Head's office when she saw the knob of the door moving. She quickly put the journal back into her bag and walked to the door. She stopped abruptly when the imposing figure of Tobias Wenlock occupied all the space of the door. Hermione, starting to feel as if she had something stuck in her throat, swallowed hard.

"Follow me," he said, curtly. "Don't even _consider_ running away."

"I won't," Hermione murmured weakly. _What had she done_? _Where was the Head of the Department? Had something happened to him?_

Hermione didn't really know what to think or feel. She wanted to know what had happened. She wanted to ask Tobias, but she knew he wouldn't tell her anything specific; he would only say a couple of vague things and Hermione would end up getting even more confused. At least she could tell with some security that whatever had happened hadn't been too terrible. After all, Tobias Wenlock was alive.

When both Tobias and Hermione were in the elevator and she noticed him pressing the button which would take them to the floor of the atrium, Hermione frowned in confusion. "Aren't we going to Level Two?" she asked.

He glanced curiously at her. "Why would we go there?"

"It's where the Department of Law Enforcement is…" she said, her words giving away her worries.

Tobias chuckled, which only made Hermione frown harder and cross her arms in her chest, defensively.

"Miss Granger, we are not going to imprison you..." he said, looking gravely at he, all traces of amusement disappeared. "However, there will be repercussions... But it's not to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement I'm taking you to."

"Where are we going, then?" Hermione said, trespassing the golden gates and following him to one of the dozen fireplaces.

"St Mungos," he said.

"_St. Mungos_? Why?" she asked, starting to worry. "Mr. Wenlock, what happened?"

"You didn't see?" he asked, turning to her and looking at her curiously.

"I could only see black spots and when you yelled at me to get help I didn't dare to look behind," she explained rapidly. "What happened?"

He shook his head, seeming disappointed. "You just destroyed a brilliant career, Hermione."

Hermione stared at him while he threw floo powder to the inside of the fireplace.

"Now, Miss Granger, ladies first," he said, stepping away from the fireplace, so she could walk into the bright green flames.

_**

* * *

**_

Hermione stood against the cold wall, looking upwards at the dirty beige ceiling. She could hear people around her either coughing, complaining or singing lullabies to crying babies. She had never understood how a hospital of the calibre of St. Mungos had the visitor's entrance and the emergency waiting room in the same space.

"Miss Granger," a tall witch called. Hermione turned to face the Welcome Witch. "Your presence is requested in the sixth floor, Miss. The gentleman you arrived with will be waiting for you there."

Hermione nodded and started walking towards the lift. Only recently Hermione had discovered that there were more than five floors in St. Mungos Hospital. The sixth floor was rarely used; it was for when there was the need of keeping wizards in quarantine.

Hermione was waiting for the lift, when she heard the Welcome Witch telling someone to go to the same floor as Hermione.

"Shingleton, you are to go to the sixth floor. Healer Blake wants you there," Hermione heard the witch say.

"Yes, I already know that," the dark haired witch said. Hermione stood slightly dumbstruck, staring at the raven haired witch who was now next to her.

"_Clarisse_?" Hermione called perplexed.

The raven haired young woman turned from her notebook to look at her.

"Hermione Granger," she said with a rather nasty smile. "I knew you would end up doing something utterly stupid."

Hermione frowned at her, wondering how she knew she had done something but decided not to say anything. Sighing, and stepped into the lift. Clarisse accompanied her.

"But I'm surprised…" Clarisse said. "You managed to keep the job for three weeks. Congratulations."

Hermione didn't answer. She hadn't been fired... yet.

"I wonder if they'll ask someone else to replace you… Do you think I have a chance?"

"What?" Hermione asked, slightly amused, looking at the witch from head to toe. "Don't tell me you would choose the Department of Mysteries over those _lovely_ lime green robes?" Hermione mocked. "They flatter you, Clarisse," she said, earning a glare from her former colleague.

"They're disgusting," Clarisse spat, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, what were they thinking? "

Hermione chuckled. "You know, I think you would be the perfect match for Draco--"

"Malfoy?" Clarisse inquired, her thin, black eyebrow raising dangerously. "Too much of a prat for my tastes."

"Sure..." Hermione muttered.

"We're in the sixth floor," Clarisse announced. "You should probably follow me. Brake is the Healer who's in charge of... this situation."

Hermione frowned at her again. "How do you know so much about this _situation_?" she asked.

"What?"

"You know that I did something and, apparently, you know what the situation is and--"

"I'm an intern here. I hear a lot of things, Hermione –- Even things I'm not supposed to," Clarisse flashed Hemione a bright smile. "But, obviously, I don't do anything stupid."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She could perfectly imagine meeting Clarisse in Diagon Alley and having her commenting about her doing _something stupid_.

"Miss Shingleton!" Tobias Wenlock called, seeming surprised. "It's good to see you again."

"You too, sir," Clarisse said politely. "Now, if you excuse me, Healer Blake called for me."

Tobias Wenlock got out of Clarisse's way and when she opened the door of an office and closed it behind her, Tobias looked pointedly at Hermione and said "Follow me," rather briskly.

Hermione followed him to a bright, small waiting room. Hermione's heart skipped a beat when she saw her two colleagues, Martha Duke and James Margolyes. What were they doing there?

"Hermione!" a familiar voice called.

Hermione almost fainted when she turned and saw her friend in one of the chairs.

"Harry?" she bit her lip. "What are you doing here?"

Had they call him because of what she had done?

She glanced around the waiting room and found Jonathan Abbot, an old witch with dark red robes, a bald wizard sat near Harry and on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall, a tall, blonde wizard Hermione recalled from being in her year at Hogwarts, in Slytherin... Nott, she suddenly remembered, Theodore Nott.

They couldn't all be there because of her. Hermione couldn't help but feel more nervous. She remembered Jonathan telling her his aunt had fallen through the Veil... They were there because what she had done would have repercussions in their lives. Hermione was afraid of thinking of the possibility of having succeeded...

"I was sent an owl by the Department of Mysteries…" Harry explained. "It said it was urgent and my presence was requested in the Department as soon as possible… Then your two colleagues were the ones who brought us here."

"What happened? Are you hurt?" he asked, when she didn't say anything, grabbing her by her arms and looking at her from head to toe. "Tell me."

"Me? Hurt?" Hermione asked, looking at him confused. "No… Not hurt."

"Then… why was I called? You know, my supervisor almost didn't let me leave classes. I had to show him the letter from the Department of Mysteries. Ron wanted to be here too… we thought something had happened to you… but they didn't let him come."

"Huhm… Harry… I don't—"

"Miss Granger," Tobias Wenlock called.

"Sir?"

"Follow me. You'll talk with your friend later."

Hermione sent Harry an apologetic look and hurried to follow Tobias.

"The Head wishes to speak with you," he finally said. He turned to face her and bended a little so he would be at the same level as her. "I advise you to speak the truth, Miss Granger."

He grabbed her arm and pushed her into a small room, with a sofa, a bookcase, a desk and two chairs. It was simple, yet rather intimidating.

"Miss Granger," William Geheim said cheerfully, making Hermione wince. He was never cheerful. "Please _sit_."

Hermione sat in the chair in front of the desk and waited for him to start speaking.

For a couple of seconds, he only stared at her and when he finally spoke, it wasn't what Hermione had expected him to say -- at least not so early in the conversation.

"What possessed you to do something so stupid, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head. "I... I can't... I don't really know _how_ to explain... But I _swear_ it wasn't my intention to cause any harm or... chaos--"

"Chaos... Do you have any idea what are the repercussions of our actions?"

"I know what was supposed to happen... but I still don't know what happened..."

He seemed to ponder her answer.

"Miss Granger, what was supposed to happen?"

"From all those people who fell through Veil..." she sighed. "The innocents were supposed to return..." she said.

He cleared his throat. "Let me read you something," he said, taking a piece of parchment from his pocket.

"_Of those who are lost, only the innocents can return. But only when the spoken words manifest the uncalculating nature of the action, only then, they will be able to return._"

When he finished reading the piece of parchment he looked at her. "Do you recognise these words?"

Hermione nodded, feeling her hands starting to sweat. "Yes..."

"How?"

Hermione glanced around her, searching for a way out. She couldn't tell him how she got the book and the journal, could she? She still didn't know if she could trust him. But Tobias Wenlock had told her to always tell the truth and she trusted Tobias.

"Miss Granger, tell me how you know these words."

Hermione swallowed hard. "I read them in a journal," she finally said.

"A journal?"

"Gabriel Geel's journal... He was John Sluier's apprentice."

He frowned. "How did you get the journal?"

"Before Gabriel was sent to Azkaban, he asked his parents to give all his books and notebooks to Hogwarts... The notebooks were kept away until Albus Dumbledore analysed them..."

"Did Albus Dumbledore leave it to you in his will?"

"No... I went to Hogwarts and talked with his portrait."

"I see... and the book?"

"It was in Hogwart's library..."

"I suppose you have them with you now?" he asked.

"I only have the journal" she admitted, hesitating before taking the journal from her bag and handing it to him.

"In... in that journal it's explained how to bring the innocents from the Veil," she explained. "It's an enchantment... a spell, but I'm pretty sure something else is needed... It's probably in the arch... it's also possibly it's in the person who casts the spell..."

"Miss Granger," he said, handing her the piece of parchment from where he had read that quote. "Read that again."

Only then it hit her. How did he get that information? It was in Gabriel's journal and he hadn't known of its existence before she had told him about it.

"Sir... How did you get this?" she asked, waving the piece of parchment.

"I spoke with Sluier," he said, not even bothering to look away from the journal.

Hermione's eyes widened in pure shock.

"_Sluier_?" she breathed. "Oh god... it worked..." she murmured in awe. Hermione turned her big eyes to him, looking hopeful. "Could I--"

"Of course not," he responded briskly, knowing she would ask him to talk to him. "Again... do you have any idea of the repercussions of what you did?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm thinking of them now..."

"_Now_? The man is not in his time. He won't know how to live in our world... How couldn't you have thought of these things, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked at her lap. She didn't know. She had no idea why she hadn't thought of those things.

William Geheim sighed.

"Miss Granger, I handed you that piece of parchment for a reason. Read it aloud."

Hermione cleared her throat. "_Of those who are_--"

"Skip that bit," he interrupted.

"_Only when the spoken words manifest the uncalculating nature of the action_—"

"There," William said, interrupting her again. "I believe you have found the other ingredient."

Hermione blinked. "_Uncalculating nature_..." she murmured.

"Yes. It appears that you weren't supposed to plan it... it was supposed to be unselfishly... You had to only wish that the innocents were brought back."

Hermione didn't know what to say. There was too much information to digest.

"Have you planned it?" he asked, even though the answer was obvious.

"Huhm, I _had_ planned it..." she admitted. "But it wasn't my intention to do it so soon... I was supposed to leave and have lunch with my colleagues but I felt... I felt the urge to go into the Death Chamber and test what I had read in the journal..."

"Do you regret doing it?" he asked. "Now that you know some of the repercussions... would you do it all over again?"

Hermione nodded. "If people returned, it means they were innocent... They had the right to live. I don't regret it."

He shook his head. "You're something else, Miss Granger..."

"How many people returned?" she asked. People were outside waiting to know why their presence had been requested by the Department of Mysteries. Maybe Harry's presence didn't have to do with her mental health. Maybe... someone related to him had returned. According to William Gehein, Sluir had returned... maybe _he_ had returned too.

"Five people," William Geheim said. "Sluier and a witch called Lara Heks are the most worrisome cases. They fell through the Veil centuries ago. Two wizards fell almost two decades ago and the last wizard fell just a couple of years ago...." he looked at her. "He was the last person to fall through the Veil."

Hermione could only stare at him, her heart beating erratically. There was only one question in her mind: what was going to happen?

He glanced at her. "Why do you want to know, Miss Granger?"

"Can I... Can I visit one of them?" Hermione asked, hesitant.

"As long as it isn't Sluier," William Geheim said, looking at her attentively. "We have to deal with him carefully."

"It isn't Sluier."

"Very well," he said, sighing. "But you'll still have to ask for Kenneth Blake's authorization. He's the Healer responsible for this case."

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** _I know. It's been like a month. I had this chapter pretty much done weeks ago, but I wasn't sure about it…_

* * *

Chapter 14

_March, 2000_

The Healer, Kenneth Blake, hadn't allowed Hermione to see _him_. Only when every wizard and witch were out of the sixth floor they would be allowed to have visitors.

Strange enough, Hermione hadn't felt disappointed or complained about it. She was oddly uninterested in the whole situation. She thought that perhaps it was simply because she was tired or because she still couldn't believe people have returned from the Veil. However, nothing was harder to absorb than the fact that Harry's godfather was one of them. She couldn't believe it. That's why she had asked to see him. She wanted to be sure it had happened.

And Harry… soon he would know… What would he think and do? Would he instantly believe what he would be told or would he be sceptic about the whole situation? And would he be mad at her?

In her bedroom, Hermione glanced at the small, Muggle wooden clock on her desk. It had been four hours since she returned to Grimmauld Place from St. Mungus, maybe Harry had already been informed of the whole situation.

Looking away from the clock, she decided to worry about Harry when he returned. She picked her quill and absently bit the feather. She immediately stopped when she realised what she was doing. Sticking her tongue out in disgust, Hermione looked at the list of possible jobs she had written in a piece of old parchment she had found in the drawer.

Every possible job she had written down was related to the Ministry of Magic and, after what she had done, she didn't know if she would be accepted in any department. If William Geheim didn't let it slip she would have a chance. She as a war heroine, after all. They'd probably fight to have her working for them. But if they indeed heard about what she had done, she wouldn't be considered much trustworthy.

Hermione sighed, scratching several options on the list. She would have to find a job. She couldn't live with Harry forever. She was certain it wouldn't take long for him to wish to live alone with Ginny.

After scratching several more options – these were related to the Department of Law Enforcement - she decided she would go to Diagon Alley and visit Flourish and Blotts. As much as it pained her to even think about it, she was thinking of wandering about in the section of self-help books, a genre she never read.

Putting the parchment back in the drawer, Hermione could only wince when she heard the portrait of Walburga Black starting to scream obscenities. She sighed deeply and started heading towards the stairs. Someday, she would have to do something about the portrait…

"_SHUT UP!_" someone screamed, louder than the portrait.

Widening her eyes, Hermione stopped abruptly. It had been Harry.

She ran down the stairs and when she reached the entryway Harry stormed in her direction, his face transformed into a mask of rage, with his green eyes glinting dangerously. Hermione instantly raised her arms, protecting her head.

"_They didn't let me see him_!" he shouted.

Hermione sighed in relief and glanced at the velvety black curtain which hid the portrait and was surprised when she realized it was as quiet as a mouse.

"They didn't let me see him!" he shouted once again. When Hermione only looked at him, he stormed out of the entryway, throwing the door behind him, making Hermione wince. She turned to follow him. When she reached him he was on the staircase, noisily stepping on the wooden stairs. When he reached the top of the stairs he turned to her.

"Did you see him?"

"No," Hermione quickly answered, afraid he would do something if she wasn't fast enough.

"You were there. You were in the room," he said accusingly.

"I didn't see anything!" Hermione said. "There was this bright light--"

"I was told," he said, dismissingly.

"I couldn't see anything," she said, frowning slightly.

"We were asked to be there so that they would inform us. Nothing more. Apparently they didn't want to _shock_ us," he said, a note of bitterness in his voice.

Hermione bit her lip. "They'll probably want to run some tests too…"

He turned her back at her and headed towards his bedroom. Hermione stood on top of the stairs, looking at him.

Without looking at her, he asked: "Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"I know you, Harry," she murmured. "If I told you I thought there was a way of bringing those who fell from the Veil, you would have done something about it."

"Yes, I would," he said, sharply. "Just like you."

"No… not like me." she said, shaking her head.

He looked at her confused.

"In your case it would be personal, Harry."

"You knew -- know --" he sighed. "You know him too."

Hermione snorted. "Harry, he's not related to me," she said. "Besides… even if I wanted to tell you, I'd probably be restrained from doing it… The moment I accepted working for the Department of Mysteries I took an oath not to reveal anything that could go against its rules--"

"You broke those rules."

She sighed. "Yes, I did… and it won't take too long for me to receive a letter from William Geheim informing me that my services are no longer required. I'm sure I just haven't received it yet because he has been too busy…"

Harry leaned his head against the door and banged it lightly.

"Harry?"

"What?"

"When will you be allowed to see him?"

"Your Head--" he glanced at her. "Your former Head said he would write us… I suppose it will depend on how those who returned are going to take the news," he said. "Hermione… do you think they'll tell him everything that happened?"

"I don't know… but… I think they'll only tell them… well, it actually will depend on how long they were gone but… in Sirius' case… they'll probably just tell him the most general things… like…"

"The war?"

"Yes…"

"I almost hexed someone," he said with a muffled voice, still not facing her.

"Are… Are you being serious?" Hermione asked, not really knowing if he meant what he said.

"I mean it. I…" he turned to her. "Hermione…"

He walked to her and grabbed her shoulders. "He's alone there," he muttered. "I can't even imagine what he might be feeling… and— and-… I still don't believe it… I wanted to see him to make sure they weren't lying…"

"You will see him. You are his only family…" she said. "And you… you know you'll need to talk to him, right? I mean, you will need to tell him what really happened."

Harry's eyes widened. "My God…" he murmured. "I— I can't!"

"Harry, you must! You are his godson…"

"You do it," he said quickly. "You will be able to tell him everything in a--"

"You've got to be kidding me, Harry," Hermione interrupted, taking his hands from her shoulders harshly. "I will _not_. You are the person he loves the most--"

"I won't be able to tell him his best friend died!" Harry shouted.

"Do you honestly want someone else telling him _that_?"

"Hermione--"

Hermione pointed a finger at him, so he would stop speaking. "It _has_ to be you, Harry," she said, turning her back to him and heading towards her chambers.

**

* * *

**

The following morning, before Hermione went to Diagon Alley, she stood outside Harry's room and knocked on his door. When he didn't open the door, she thought he was still sleeping, but when, after she kept knocking, he didn't answer, she started to worry.

"Harry? Are you alright?"

"Yes!" he shouted from the inside of the room. "I just need to be alone!"

Hermione was taken aback. "Oh, ok… but… uh… I'm going to Diagon Alley… Do you want to come with me?"

No answer.

She sighed. He had told her he needed time alone. _How tactful of you, Hermione_, she thought.

"Do you want me to bring you anything?"

No answer. Again.

Sighing again, Hermione walked downstairs. Glancing one last time to the stairs, almost hoping to see him coming from there, she grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it to the flames.

**

* * *

**

Flourish and Blotts was the largest bookshop in Diagon Alley. It was also the only place in the Magical World where Hermione bought books, but only because she had never needed to search for books in other bookshops. Flourish and Blotts had always had the books she wanted.

That day hadn't been the exception.

When she reached the self-help books section she saw several other wizards and witches nervously searching for something that would tell them what to do. She felt pity for them. And herself, since she was in the same position. Absently running her fingers through the cover of so of the books, she noticed that most of those books weren't related to what she was searchin -- they included titles like "Charm the Wizard of Your Dreams" or "Slimming Spells". After half a hour, she had found ten books which promised to solve her problem. She browsed through all of them and, after the fifth she gave up and put them back in their places.

For the first time in her life she walked out of a bookshop without buying anything. She actually felt a bit guilty about that, but it was quickly forgotten when, ot of the blue, something was thrown from a shop and hit her legs, almost making her fall.

Hermione glared at the man on the doorstep of the shop, which was a pet store Hermione hadn't known that existed, and was going to comment his lack of apology when the man started speaking to himself: "Filthy little things…" he muttered under his breath, while shaking his hands, as if he had touched in something dirty.

Lifting an eyebrow, Hermione curiously looked at the floor, expecting to see something like garbage. There was no garbage, though. Hermione froze; she could only stare aghast at the sight in front of her.

_A boy._

He seemed to be around six or seven. His clothes were worn out and he looked like he hadn't taken a bath in years.

The boy raised from the floor and, glaring at the owner, he started rubbing his arm. The owner snorted and walked to the inside the stop, closing the glassy door noisily.

It was then he became aware of Hermione's presence. He looked up at her, his big dark blue eyes widening in fear.

Hermione swallowed hard and bent down so her head would be at the same level as his. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Will! Will!"

Both Hermione's and the boy's head snapped in the direction of the little girl running in their direction with her arms open and a big, toothless smile. Hermione quickly ran her eyes over her fragile body. Her clothes were exremelly worn out too.

"I wasn't able to get near one," the boy said, ignoring Hermione and looking guiltily at the girl.

"But I found one! I found one!" the girl squealed. "It was in the garbage thingy. It's so small! Come and see him!"

The boy, Will, didn't need to hear it twice. He grabbed one of the girl's tiny hands and let her guide him through the crowd. Neither of them glanced at Hermione.

**

* * *

**

When Hermione returned to Grimmauld Place she found a note from Harry stuck on the wall in front of the fireplace.

_Hermione,_

_Geheim requested my presence in St. Mungos. If I'm not home when you return, go to St. Mungos to meet me._

_Harry_

In a second, Hermione was throwing floo powder to the fireplace and travelling through the flames.

When she arrived at hospital, Hermione walked towards the reception. In the way, she passed by the Welcome Witch, who greeted her in a bored tone. The moment she gave her name to the receptionist she was sent to the fourth floor. Almost without realizing, Hermione reached the fourth floor. She stopped at the entrance of the lift and wondered why she hadn't asked which room she was supposed to go. She was going to enter in the lift again but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Hermione turned and before she had the time to open her mouth, Clarisse said, "Your friend is in room number 14." The intern shook her head, looking amused. "I don't know how you manage to do these things."

Hermione smiled at her former colleague and headed to the room, walking through a long corridor. She was about to knock on the door when she heard several noisy steps behind her.

"Hermione!"

Widening her eyes in surprise, Hermione turned to face three Weasleys, while unconsciously dropping her hand to the silver knob.

"Mrs. Weasley? What are you doing here?" she asked, looking from Mrs. Weasley to Ron and then to Mr. Weasley.

"Well…" the Wasley matron started.

"Harry told us," said Ron bluntly, his blue eyes piercing towards Hermione. He was probably slightly annoyed she hadn't told anyone.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Harry told you? But— but… I thought he had taken an oath--"

"He did," Mr. Weasley said calmly. "But he can tell his family. And we are his family."

Mrs. Weasley and Ron nodded enthusiastically.

"He was at the Burrow when he received a letter from the Head of the Department," Mr Weasley explained. "He went flying to Grimmauld Place to leave you a note and then he came here. We just arrived through. We were waiting for Ron to be allowed to leave his training."

"How long has Harry been there?" Hermione asked, her hand never leaving the knob.

"Not long," Ron said. "He was minutes ahead of us…"

Hermione nodded and turned to the door and knocked lightly.

No answer.

She frowned towards the Weasleys, who had a similar expression on their faces. Shrugging, Hermione turned the knob and opened the door just enough to peek at the inside of the room.

She froze.

Every single thing in the room was of the purest white, and in the centre stood Sirius Black, with Harry holding onto him like he would never want to let him go again.

Hermione's small gasp made _his_ head snap in her direction. For just a second their eyes met. Hermione quickly turned and closed the door, as soundlessly as she could manage. She leaned against the door and tried to control her breath.

The Weasleys looked at her expectantly. They were waiting for her to say something. Hermione swallowed hard, making the knot in her throat disappear.

"Erm," she cleared her throat noisily. "I think we should give them some time."


	15. Chapter 15

**Previous chapter:**

_She froze._

_Every single thing in the room was of the purest white, and in the centre stood Sirius Black, with Harry holding onto him like he would never want to let him go again._

_Hermione's small gasp made his head snap in her direction. For just a second their eyes met. Hermione quickly turned and closed the door, as soundlessly as she could manage. She leaned against the door and tried to control her breath._

_The Weasleys looked at her expectantly. They were waiting for her to say something. Hermione swallowed hard, making the knot in her throat disappear._

_"Erm," she cleared her throat noisily. "I think we should give them some time."_

* * *

**A/N_1:** Okay... Remember the kids I mentioned? I decided that I won't include them in **this** story. It would end up _humongous_. I'm sorry if you really wanted to know about them. I did too.

**A/N_2:** The first bit is from _Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix (C. 35)_. I did **not** write it. JKR did.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

_June, 1996_

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.

The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.

It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch....

And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though a high wind and then fell back into place.

**(HPOP, 35)**

* * *

_March, 2000_

He squinted his eyes at the whiteness of the room. Lazily, he took his fingers to his eyes and pressed lightly. He blinked a couple of times, until his sight seemed normal.

When he sat at the bed he felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him and he carefully leaned back against the pillow, his eyes shut.

Sighing deeply, and with his eyes still closed, he pulled the covers to one of the sides and got up from the bed.

He opened his eyes and absorbed his surroundings. He was at St. Mungos. Or some other hospital. It didn't matter, really. He was alone – something he should be already used to by now but wasn't.

He slackly walked towards the wall facing the bed and stared at the only colourful thing present in the bedroom. A painting. Since he didn't seem to see anything amongst the myriad of purple and yellow shades, he assumed it was an abstract painting.

Then, he remembered.

The Department of Mysteries. The battle. His _dear_ cousin Bella. The jet of light hitting him in the chest. And the noise of something fluttering behind him.

He knew he should be worried about what had happened, but for some reason he was abnormally calm. Apathetic, really. Or maybe he was just sleepy -- even if that didn't make sense, since he had just woken up.

There was a knock on the door. He waited for the person to come in. When it happened he beamed.

"Harry," he called lazily. He frowned. His voice. He felt like he hadn't used it for a long time.

Harry just stood at the door, staring at him.

"Sirius?" Harry whispered so weakly he almost didn't hear.

He wanted to ask what had happed, how the battle at the Ministry had finished. He wanted to ask why he seemed taller than the last time he had seen him. But he didn't really seem to care.

Sirius stared back at Harry, who was frowning so deeply it looked like he had aged ten years. Had something happened during the battle? Had someone… died?

If something had happened he was going to kill Kreacher. Once he returned to Grimmauld Place, he would, for once, honour his family tradition and add Kreacher's head to the collection, on Grimmauld Place's walls. He smirked sluggishly at those thoughts.

Before he had time to inquire Harry of anything, his godson ran to him and held onto his shirt with such force Sirius almost fell.

After what it seemed like hours, Harry choked: "I thought you were dead."

**

* * *

**

Hermione glanced at the space where Mr. Weasley and Ron had been a hour ago. After waiting for a hour, the two men had decided they should get back to work. Molly Wesley hadn't been happy about it, but she ended up agreeing that it was for the best.

Half a hour later Molly told Hermione she would go to the fifth room, where the Tea Room and the Hospital Shop could be found, for a couple of minutes.

"I'm going to check if there's something new there," Mrs. Weasley said. Hermione frowned at the visibly nervous woman. "Do you want me to bring you something, dear?"

Shaking her head, Hermione said, "No, thank you."

"Well, I won't take too long," she assured her.

Hermione nodded, smiling reassuringly. Of what, she didn't exactly know.

When she had closed the door of the room where Harry and Sirius had been for hours, the Weasleys had bombarded her with questions. She hadn't known what to say about what she had seen. Actually, she hadn't known _how_ to say it.

She still didn't know what to think of what had happened. There were so many things to consider. The Veil, the creator and his purpose, what the Ministry had done, the people who returned, what was going to change. Her mind was pretty chaotic. She would need a bit of time to adjust to what was happening.

Resting against the cold wall, Hermione sighed deeply. What had she gotten them into?

"I don't think he'll come out from that room any time soon."

Hermione's head snapped in the direction of the voice.

She nodded in recognition. "Healer Blake."

"I have spoken to Mr. Potter and he informed me he wished you, along with Mr. Potter himself, to be one of the people who will b able to see Mr. Black dring the process of his... recovery. I need to know if you accept, so that we can discuss a couple of things. If you don't--"

Hermione interrupted him: "Of course I accept."

Healer Blake nodded. "Then I have to ask you to accompany me to me office. There's a magic contract you need to sign."

**

* * *

**

Hermione analysed the document that had been given her by Healer Blake. If she summarised everything, there was only a simple rule: whatever was spoken or done, only the parties involved could know. If anyone broke this rule, he or she would have to answer to the Department of Law Enforcement.

Hermione picked Blake's quill up and absently dipped it in his inkwell. Making sure it had the perfect amount of black ink, Hermione signed her name. The moment the tip of the quill stopped in the last letter of her surname, the ink turned blood red. Her brows rose at that.

"Don't worry. It's a good sign," Healer Blake said, one of the corners of his mouth turning upwards at her surprised face.

"Now," he said, reaching out for the parchment and scanning it one last time before letting it rest in front of him, so the ink would dry. "I'm going to try to summarise all the fundamental information."

Hermione nodded and waited for him to begin.

Blake sighed deeply. "As we speak it is being created a new floor so that we can deal with this situation without having o worry with the other patients."

"It will include a room to each of the patients and another one, bigger, to be shared by all of them. Since we don't know how much time each of the individuals will need to… recover, this room will be filled with objects, such as sofas, bookshelves, maybe a chess table… amongst other things."

"There will be a room in which the developments will be discussed, an office for the healers and interns involved and several rooms in which the patients will be examined and which will contain the means necessary to the tests… which will obviously depend on what sort of exam the patient will take."

"Only those who signed this contract will be able to have access to the floor. That means that, apart from the five individuals who returned from the Veil, two people chosen for each of them, two healers and two interns will also have access. The Head of the Department of Mysteries and two of his Unspeakables will have access, as well as, obviously, the Director of the Hospital. That means that twenty three people will have the authorization. Only in extraordinary cases, such as an emergency, other people will have to be granted access."

"Any, and I repeat, _any_ information that you will be able to obtain about this matter can only be discussed with people who also have the authorization to go to the floor," he paused for a moment so that she could digest all the information. "Any questions?"

"What has been done so far?"

"The patients are in individual rooms. So far we have only made superficial exams and gave them Calming Draughts and Sleeping Potions, particularly since some of them had visitors."

"Have they been informed of… what happened since their dea— disappearance?"

"No, they haven't… yet. We would like to discuss the matter and ponder every option first," Blake sighed. "There are already several options. Some of them were even suggested by relatives of the patients."

"What options have been discussed so far?"she asked, leaning towards in interest.

"Well, it depends on the patient. In your case, Ms. Granger, as well as in people who have fallen through the Veil recently, I think that we could use yours and Mr. Potter's memories of the last past years to help them understand what has happened."

Hermione frowned at that.

Blake saw her look and said: "Well, most of the relatives are a bit apprehensive with the thought of having to be the ones to tell them…"

Hermione nodded in understanding.

"The option that seemed to be the most accepted is, as I said, the use of memories," he explained. "Well, this is all I wanted to inform you. Do you have any other question?"

Massaging her temple, Hermione shook her head. "Mmm. Not at the moment. I think I should reflect about it all. May I contact you if I have any question?"

Blake nodded. "Of course."

**

* * *

**

"How… How was he?" asked Hermione hesitantly.

When she got out of Blake's office, she had seen Harry close the door of Sirius' room. She had run to him and, noticing his state, she took him to Grimmauld Place as soon as she could. She didn't ask anything until they reached the house. She thought that even if she had asked something, he wouldn't have uttered a word.

She watched him take his coat and walk in the direction of the stairs.

"They are giving them very potent Calming Draughts and Peace Draughts," he said, without facing her. She followed him. "He was… almost... normal. It was almost as if he was drunk or really, really sleepy," Harry said, stopping when they reached the door of his room. He turned to her. "It was as if nothing had happened. Not even the Ministry Battle…" he turned his eyes away from hers. "They are also keeping him -- them -- sleeping most of the time."

Hermione's brows raised in surprise. Blake hadn't told her that they were under the influence of the potions _most_ of the time. "Well… I suppose it's better like that for now… But they can't keep them like that forever."

Harry opened the door of his room. Hermione stood outside. She bit her lip. Considering the situation, she didn't know if it was wise for her to follow him into the bedroom.

"I assume Blake spoke to you," Harry said from the inside.

Seeing that as an invitation, she followed him into the room and closed the door.

Harry was sat on his bed, taking his shoes off.

"Yes," she murmured, leaning against the door. "Right after I signed the contract."

Harry nodded. "I asked him if there was any chance that Sirius could be treated at home… Maybe even with a personal Healer or something… But Blake said it would be better to keep him, as well as the others, in St. Mungos until they are ready to face their… new reality."

"It is for the best, Harry," she said encouragingly.

"Since he was the last one…" he started, avoiding looking at her. "Maybe… he will recover first…" he finished, his voice betraying his confident attitude.

"I don't know, Harry…"

"Sirius was the last person who fell from the Veil…" he said again, this time vehemently. "He'll have less things to catch up… Maybe he'll come out sooner than the others… I'm just saying--"

"I don't want to sound like a killjoy, Harry… but it might be for that exact reason that he probably won't be the first to… recover. I mean… everything that happened to us in the last years… he will have to face them in minutes or hours. It's still fresh for us… imagine what will be like to him. And Sirius will probably have a harder time acknowledging that--- well, acknowledging some of the things that happened..."

Harry was silent for a moment, until he turned his eyes to her and, with a low voice, he said: "You could be a little more supportive, you know."

She sighed. "Harry…"

"I think -- and Blake agreed -- that our memories might be the best way for him to know what happened…" said Harry, changing the subject, probably to avoid an argument.

"Are you sure that's wise?" she pressed.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Why wouldn't it be? We will just store our memories in a Pensieve and… he will be able to see what happened. Simple and effective."

"It's just that…" Hermione sighed while considering the best way to express her thoughts. "You have to be really careful with what you decide to show him… Are you going to show him… Remus and--?"

"He will want to know about him. He will want to know about everything," he said, firmly, his voice so cold Hermione could swear it wasn't his.

"I am certain of that," Hermione snapped, narrowing her eyes, trying to understand his attitude. "But, Harry… will he want to _see_ it?"

* * *

**A/N_3:** I don't have a beta for this story anymore so I would be grateful if you ignored any mistakes. Although... you should definitely tell me if something is… barbaric. :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_April, 2000_

* * *

"Hermione!" Harry called from downstairs. "Hurry up!"

Hermione ran to her desk, opened the drawer and took both Sluier's book and Gabriel's journal. She had received a letter from William Geheim informing her that they needed the books so that the Healers and the Department of Mysteries could start working on Sluier's case.

Hermione was putting them inside her bag when she noticed an envelope in the middle of both books. She picked it up and opened it. Inside she found a key. She immediately recognized it as the key of her parents' house in Australia. She mentally cursed herself. She hadn't gone there since she had found out about their death. She picked up a quill, opened a bottle of ink and scribbled the words "Perth, Australia" in the envelope and put it back in the drawer, under a notebook. She couldn't leave to Perth now, or anytime soon for that matter, but she would once she was able to spend a couple of days – and money – in Australia.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted again, this time sounding more impatient.

She ran downstairs and found Harry waiting for her near the fireplace, with a newspaper in one hand and his cloak on the other.

"We're not late," she stated after looking at the clock above the fireplace. "Why the shouts?"

"This," Harry said, throwing the _Daily Prophet_ at her.

After glaring at him for throwing it at her when he was close enough to just hand it, she looked at the front page of the newspaper and her mouth formed a "O" when she read the huge, bold lines.

**_RESURRECTION AT THE MINISTRY?_**

"_How_?" she managed to ask. "They said it was going to be confidential until the situation was under control."

"Maybe the situation _is_ under control."

Hermione gave him a look. "We know it isn't," she turned her eyes back to the newspaper. "But I don't understand," she said. "Oaths were taken to prevent this kind of situation from happening…"

Harry shrugged. "It really isn't our problem, is it?"

She bit her lip. "Not yet…"

Harry glanced down at himself, checking if his wand was inside his pocket.

"We're ready," Hermione said with a soothing tone. She knew he was afraid of Sirius' reaction when he saw the memories.

"Are you sure the vials are organised?" Harry asked, nervously looking at the two boxes near the fireplace.

Hermione glared at him. "Of course they are organised. What do you think I've been doing these past two days?"

Harry had asked her to sort the memories chronologically. They had later discussed which ones they were going to take to show Sirius, and those which weren't really necessary.

Harry picked one of the boxes up. "It's not heavy," he stated. "How many vials does it have?"

"Of course it's not heavy. I think you have around ten vials there," she said, looking thoughtful.

"They won't break, will they?"

She smiled. "Of course not. They're in a polystyrene tray. And I charmed them."

"Why the polystyrene then?"

She shrugged. "You never know. Let's go," she said, quickly putting the _Daily Prophet_ in her bag – she would have to read it later --, she thenthrew floo powder to the flames and followed Harry.

Curiously, the moment Hermione stepped out of one of the fireplaces of St. Mungos, Harry was already greeting Healer Blake.

After the courtesies Blake looked at the boxes curiously. "The memories, I suppose?"

Harry nodded.

"I'll have to take a look first," Blake said. "Security measures."

It took him a couple of minutes to check both boxes and when he was satisfied, he turned his back to them and said "Please follow me, I'll be your guide for today," he said smiling.

"In which floor is it located?" Hermione asked.

"It's in the tenth floor," he said. "However, you will have to access this room," he opened a door located next to the reception. Once the three of them were inside, they were surprised to find narrow lockers against the wall. "Your wands will be kept in one of those lockers. There's one to each visitor," Hermione raised an eyebrow. "It's safe, and only you can take the wands back," Hermione went to find the drawer with her name and hesitantly place her wand in there. When she was sure it was closed Blake tried to open it, even with spells, and wasn't able to have access to her wand. Hermione visibly relaxed. "You can save other things too if you don't want to take them inside."

"Remember the document you signed?" Blake asked. "Well, you'll have to put the hand you used to sign the document on the knob of that door," he pointed at the door on the other side of the room. "And you'll have access to the room. It's a similar procedure as the drawers for the wands."

He signaled Harry to do it first. He held his hand against the surface of the knob and two seconds later he had disappeared.

Hermione's head snapped in Blake's direction.

"It takes you automatically to the visitor's room," Blake explained. "If someone who isn't in the guest list tries to enter, he'll be automatically taken to the entrance of St. Mungos. If the same person tries again, he will have a sudden urge to leave the room."

Hermione nodded and, after Blake's nod, Hermione walked towards the door and placed her hand on the knob. When she made a move to turn it, as if she was going to open the door, she felt as if she was Apparating and found herself in the visitor's room of the tenth floor.

"Hermione!" Harry said. "For a moment I didn't know if this was supposed to happen," he said.

Blake appeared behind her.

"I'll take you to Mr. Black's room now," he said.

They followed him through another door and they found themselves in a corridor.

"How many vials did you bring?" Blake asked.

"Around twenty," Hermione answered.

He nodded. "It is possible that Mr. Black will wish to have access to the memories more than one time," he said. "There's already a Pensieve in the room."

"Is it really wise to let Sirius see all these memories?" Hermione asked, still uncertain it was the best idea.

Blake considered her words. "They have already been informed that they are in a different time," he said. "When we told them they had a small dose of Calming Draught in their systems. Most of them didn't quite understand, there were two cases in which we had to give them more Calming Draught," he explained. "Mr. Black didn't say anything. He listened to what we told him but I don't think he believed most of what we said."

He stopped in front of a door with Sirius' name in it.

"We informed Mr. Black that you would bring him memories of what happened during his absence. He seemed calmer after that."

"Will he need a Calming Draught for this?" Harry asked.

"He has already drunk a very small dose of it. It's very small… we don't want him to become too dependable on the Draught to deal with the changes," he said. "There is a button behind the door. Since you don't have any wands – and I believe you prefer to talk to him alone – in case there is an emergency, you'll use that button."

They nodded. Harry was going to open the door when Blake called Hermione.

She turned to him with an inquisitive look. "Yes?"

"I believe you have something for me."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I do?"

"Mr. Geheim informed me you are in the possession of certain objects--"

The books.

"I was told to give them only to Mr. Geheim," she interrupted, looking at him firmly.

He looked amused.

"He left this for you," he said, handing her a blue envelope with her name written in a careless manner, in golden ink. "He said you most certainly would say that you were supposed to give it only to him."

Hermione opened the envelope and unfold the letter. She smiled at her the words of her former Head, not exactly knowing if she should be insulted or amused.

_Miss Granger_

_Since I am aware of some of you irritating habits, I assume you have just refused the Healer in charge of this matter to give him precious information that can help them – and us, in the Department of Mysteries – with our research. Just give him the book and the journal. Blake can be trusted. I will be meeting the Healers involved in the case when I'm able to free myself from all the trouble you put me into. _

_I also hope that whichever next career you pursue – if anyone will ever accept you after this – that you don't get your superiors as much trouble as you're giving me._

_William Geheim_

_Head of the Department of Mysteries - Ministry of Magic_

_London, England_

Hermione sighed. "Very well," she said, opening her bag and taking both the journal and the book from it. She hesitated before handing them to Blake.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said.

Harry, who had been waiting for her at the door, looked at her curiously. She made him a signal she would talk to him later. Harry shrugged and opened the door.

"Finally, Harry," he said from the bed. "I thought I was going to have to wait until this evening to see what I missed."

Harry walked to the bed to greet his godfather while Hermione stood at the door, observing. She had already seen him once since his return. He was just the same. Every time she glanced at him it was like she was transported to her sixteen year old self.

She turned her attention to her surroundings. The bed looked comfortable enough. She was sure that after security, they had to think of comfort, since they didn't know how long they would be there. On the opposite side of the bed there was a door that would, presumably, lead to the bathroom. Near the wall that was opposite to the bed, there was a table with the Pensieve and four chairs.

When Harry moved towards the table, where he put the box, Sirius was able to see Hermione standing by the door. He quickly closed his eyes at her sight. It lasted only a moment. Then opened them again.

"Sorry," he said, taking his hands to his eyes, pressing them as if he had just woken up.

"Hermione," he said softly. "Good to see you."

"Hi."

"I don't mean to be rude, but I thought I'm not stable enough for visitors," he commented rather dryly. "Why are you here?" he asked, glancing curiously at her.

"I'm Harry's substitute. In case he can't come here, I'll come."

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"I came today," she said, knowing what his raised eyebrow meant. "because I'm the one who organised the vials of memories and I'm the one who's going to tell you the order in which you must see them."

"Oh," he said, as if he had just realised. "I thought he had brought you because you look just the same and I wouldn't be so shocked."

Hermione made a face. There was a flicker in his lips. She could have sworn he would have laughed if the situation had been another.

"Okay," he said when she kept the same expression for longer than he had probably expected. "Maybe you're a bit taller."

Hermione shook her head in concealed amusement. She wasn't sure if Blake was right. He couldn't just have taken a small dose of Calming Draught.

"Good to know your little trip didn't prevent you from your sense of humour," she said dryly. She placed the box on one of the chairs.

"I don't know why they keep me in bed," she heard him complain to Harry. "It's not like I can't walk."

"Can't you go to the main room?" Hermione asked surprised. Healer Blake had told them the patients would have access to the main room.

"Not yet," he said. "Not until they're sure I'm _stable_."

Hermione shrugged and started to take the vials from the boxes and placing them next to the Pensieve. "I think it's sensible of them," she said, looking up to see him rolling his eyes. "Come on, instead of whining because you can't go outside why don't you come here so we can start this."

He practically jumped out of the bed. She knew he had immediately regretted it. A wave of dizziness swept over him. He only didn't fall because Harry ran to his side to help him walk and sit.

"That bloody potion," he murmured under his breath, his eyes still shut.

Hermione waited until he opened his eyes and nodded at her. "Start, please."

"Okay," she murmured. She took a deep breath and used her most professional voice. She pointed at the first vial, labeled _Department Of Mysteries, 1996_. "This vial contains Harry's memory of the night we went to the Department of Mysteries seeking you--"

"Which was bloody stupid if I may add," he interrupted, anger flashing his eyes.

"Yes, well," Hermione said, unimpressed with his outburst. "That was years ago and I think we learnt our lesson," Hermione said. "We lost you."

He waved his hand so she would proceed.

"This is one contains one of my memories," she said, pointing at the next one. "They're of Harry, after you disappeared."

Sirius glanced at Harry, who was looking at the vial pointedly.

"Isn't that one of the vials--" Harry started.

"We had decided not to bring?" she finished. "Yes, but you said he had the right to know everything."

Harry kept avoiding Sirius' gaze.

"It also contains Harry's conversation with Dumbledore about you, when we returned Hogwarts. I think this one is important because it will explain Kreacher's--"

Sirius' head snapped in her direction.

"Is he _still_ alive?" Sirius asked astonished. "I was hoping you would have honoured his wishes by adding his head to my mother's small collection."

Hermione glared at him. "Yes, well, I'm afraid he's still alive," she said. "And _hopefully_ Harry's conversation with Dumbledore will open your eyes a bit."

"Let's return to the vials, shall we?" Sirius asked.

Hermione pointed at the third one. "These contains memories – both Harry's and mine – of our sixth year," she explained. "And this is an important one," Hermione said, pointing at the vial labeled _Astronomy Tower, 1998_. "I have to warn you, though," Hermione said, carefully. "This is Harry's point of view. What you'll see and think or feel after that won't necessarily be the truth."

"Okay," he said. "I'll draw my own conclusions."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. He was obviously – like everyone else – going miss the point. She glanced at the door, just to make sure theemergency button was there.

While Hermione explained what the vials contained, Harry had inserted their contents in the Pensieve. When the memories were in the Pensieve, Sirius looked at both of them once before he travelled to the year of his disappearance.

Besides what Hermione and harry had told him the vials contained, they also included memories of Harry's conversations with Dumbledore about Slughorn and Malfoy, the Slug Club, what Harry had learnt of Tom Riddle's life and an introduction to Horcruxes. Harry's memory of the day at the Astronomy Tower was probably one of the most important memories, and more dangerous, because they knew Sirius would blame Snape, hopefully only until he saw Harry's memories of Snape's memories. They had also decided to include some personal memories, like when they had found out Remus Lupin refused Tonks and his reasons and Dumbledore's funeral.

Neither Harry nor Hermione knew how long Sirius had been absent, but when he turned to them, they knew from the murderous glint he had witnessed Dumbledore's death. For a moment Hermione considered running to the door to click in the button.

"Explain," he whispered.

"Did you see everything?" Hermione asked. "What was the last memory you saw?"

"The funeral," he whispered in the same tone. "Now explain."

"You'll have to wait until you see Harry's memories of our last year. Everything will be explained," she said, proceeding to give him a condescending look. "I _told_ you to be careful with this particular memory and that it is _not_ exactly what you think you saw."

Harry silently took the memories from the Pensieve and put them back into their respective vials. When he finished he proceeded to add to the Pensieve the memories they had gathered of the following year.

"These are from the following year," Hermione said.

"Your seventh year," Sirius said, as if making sure he was following everything.

"No," Hermione said with a small smile. "We didn't return to Hogwarts."

Sirius opened his mouth, surprised, only stopping when Harry nodded in encouragement and Sirius turned his attention to the Pensieve.

At that moment Sirius would be seeing Bill and Fleur's wedding, the objects Dumbledore had left for Harry, Hermione and Ron, their plans regarding their hunt for Horcruxes. Amongst the episodes of the hunt they had also included more personal things. Sirius would see Harry and Hermione visiting Godric's Hollow, the camps, Gryffindor's sword, when they were at Malfoy's Mannor, with Hermione and Ron ending up being tortured by Bellatrix, Dobby's death, breaking into Gringotts, but he would also see when Remus asked Harry to be Teddy's godfather.

The last vials Harry had poured into the Pensieve included the memories of the day of the Last Battle: the Trio under the Invisibility Cloak, witnessing Snape's murderer and, with his last breath, giving them his memories and asking Harry to look at him. They had chosen to include some of Harry's memories of Snape's, but not all; they had only chosen those in which Sirius would be able to see Snape's work as a spy, and his reasons, as well as Dumbledore's plans. It didn't make much sense showing Sirius Snape's other memories, since he had been there. The last memories were of Harry with Voldmort, Neville killing Nagini, the defeat of Voldmort and the Death Eaters and all the deaths they had suffered. Harry had also included the moment he had used the Resurrection Stone. He wanted to discuss that moment with Sirius later.

When he finally returned from the last memories, they were expecting him to bombard them with questions. But Sirius stood in silence, watching Harry taking the memories back to the vials.

"These are the last ones…" Hermione said. "They're less informative, I think. It's only some of the things we did since the battle. I still haven't organised my memories of what happened since I started working in the Department of Mysteries…" she stopped. "Did they tell you anything about your return?"

Sirius nodded. "Geheim called you foolish and brainless a couple of times."

She gaped. "Ah, well--"

"I have a question," he said, looking at them.

They both nodded. That was one of the reasons they were there – to make sure he knew and understood what had happened while he had been absent. Sirius seemed to ponder the best way of articulating his words.

"Are you certain," he started, looking intently at both of them. "that none of these memories were somehow altered?"

Harry and Hermione instantaneously knew what memories he was talking about. Snape's.

"Yes," said Harry, firmly. He couldn't really know that. Even Sirius knew that. But we all believed in what we had seen. Sirius would too, eventually.

Sirius studied Harry for a moment and then he finally said: "I would like some time to think."

Almost simultaneously, both Harry and Hermione got up from their seats and Hermione walked towards the boxes, ready to gather all the vials in it.

"Can they stay?" Sirius asked suddenly. "Just for a couple of days? I would like to see some things again. And think."

Hermione looked at Harry, waiting for an answer. They were his memories, mostly. Harry nodded and Hermione put the box back to the floor.

"Just try not to mess it all," Hermione couldn't avoid saying, putting a cloak around her shoulders.

Sirius frowned. "What, exactly?"

"The memories," she explained, realising at that moment she had probably sounded too harsh. "It took me two days to sort them chronologically and to label the vials."

Sirius gave her a small smile and a nod of reassurance. Hermione nodded back and left, in case Harry and Sirius wanted to speak alone.

Harry looked at Hermione leaving and then quickly turned to Sirius, who had just finished drinking from a vial labeled _Sleeping Draught_. Harry didn't comment on that. Instead, he said: "If you need anything--"

"I know," Sirius said, yawing. "There's always a Healer or Intern around"

"That's not what I meant-" Harry said, smiling a little.

"I also know that," Sirius murmured, his eyelids fluttering, the potion already fighting to close his eyes.

"Tulips," he murmured sleepily.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"Rows of purple and yellow tulips," he murmured, almost incomprehensibly, before falling in a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** _There's a banner for this story! If you're interested, you can see it in my profile. _:)

* * *

**Chapter 17**

_May, 2000_

When Harry returned to Grimmauld Place from his Auror training, he walked to the library, where he knew Hermione would be. Hermione, who was sitting on the floor with Harry's Pensieve at her side, turned her eyes away from the vials, which she hadn't completed labelling yet, and turned them to her friend, who had just carelessly thrown his coat to one of the settees.

"So?"

"Huh?" Harry mumbled.

"How's he?"

"Fine," he said. He sighed. "Except... he refuses to talk about the memories."

"How so?"

"When I asked him something he just stared at the wall. When I insisted he said something about a painting from the other room."

"He has a lot to deal with --"

"I know. I could help him... if he let me."

Hermione stood quiet for a moment. Then she looked up at him and asked, "Have you talked with him about the Resurrection Stone yet?"

"No," he shook his head. "I would like you to be there too if that's okay. Maybe he won't ignore me if there's someone else there with us."

Hermione shrugged. "Okay."

Harry raised from his seat and started walking towards the door, but seemed to remember something because he suddenly turned to her and said: "Geheim wants to speak with you."

"Oh? Did he say anything else?"

"He said for me to take you next time I go see Sirius. He goes there every day to talk with Blake."

"When will you go?" she asked.

"I have a couple of free hours from Auror training in two days. We could go then if you are free."

"Oh, good. In that way I can quickly finish labeling the memories."

Harry looked at the vials. "Those will be of the Veil, right?"

"Yes. And there are only five vials so it won't take much time."

Hermione turned her attention to the Pensieve. She took her wand to her temple and carefully transferred one of her memories to a vial. When she finished she looked up to see Harry standing looking at her.

"Harry," she called softly. "Is this only about Sirius? He has refused to talk about the war the other time you visited him and you didn't return home so… distraught. Did something happen?"

He sighed and sat again. "My supervisor told us we will have to leave England for a couple of months to finish our training."

"Where are you going?"

"It's either France or Germany."

"When are you going?"

"I don't know yet. He also didn't tell us how long we will be staying there."

"Maybe it's in your last year."

He looked at her, disappointed. "That will be this September." He sighed. "I just didn't want to leave Sirius now."

* * *

When Hermione arrived at St. Mungos, she headed towards the common room of the special floor, where Harry told her Geheim would be waiting her. She walked inside, only to find Geheim speaking with another man, who, apparently, had been pacing and gesticulating violently, until he saw Hermione and stopped abruptly. Hermione opened her mouth to say she was sorry for interrupting, but Geheim raised a hand and said: "Just a moment."

Hermione nodded and closed the door behind her. It didn't take him long to open the door of the room, grab her arm and push her into the room.

She looked around curiously to see if the man who had been there was still there. He wasn't. It was then that she noticed another door.

Geheim noticed her facial expression and sighed. "Yes, he left from that door. It's closer to the area where the patient's rooms are," he said.

"Was he a patient?" she asked, curious. She couldn't help but wonder who the man was. There was a high chance he was one of the four men who had returned from the Veil. She should have looked more attentively at him when she had opened the door carelessly. The only thing she remembered was that he was wearing black robes and that he was old enough to be her father. But those traits were probably shared by most of those who returned.

Geheim sighed impatiently. "Yes."

Hermione suddenly remembered the article of the Daily Prophet.

"I read the article of the Daily Prophet about the supposed resurrection," she blurted out. "Was that what you meant when you said I had gotten you in trouble?"

"Yes," he said calmly. "Amongst other things."

"Who did--"

"We don't know _yet_."

"But oaths--"

"Only people who are directly involved with this case took oaths. Everyone else we had to discuss with -- at the Ministry -- didn't. The cases are supposed to be kept confidential between Departments. Someone obviously got something from this... or is still going to get," he said. "There is nothing you should be worried about. And – if it's not asking too much – don't stick your wand in this business."

She shook her head. He looked at her disbelievingly. "I won't," she said more vehemently.

"Now, if we could discuss the real reason I asked you to meet me here instead of chatting about the Daily Prophet I would be very happy."

He looked at her, as if expecting her to interrupt him. When the only thing she did was stare back at him he cleared his throat. "You know that you are a valuable resource of information in the matter of the Veil," he didn't wait for her to say anything. "I would like it if you, despite the fact that you no longer work to the Ministry, would be available if either St. Mungos or the Department of Mysteries needs any information from you."

"Of course."

"We will probably need your memories too."

"I have already put them in vials and labeled them," she said. When he looked at her as if she was insane she added: "In case Sirius wants to see them. I will leave them in his room anyway."

He nodded. "Very well," he said. "Have you spoken to Blake today?"

She shook her head. "No, not yet."

"Well, he's been very busy," Geheim said. "Mr. Black will be allowed to leave St. Mungos in a couple of days… maybe in a week."

Hermione looked at him surprised.

He proceeded to told her he was stable – for now. However, he still didn't know if the fact that, the days that followed the day he had seen the memories and learnt about what had happened during the time he had been trapped, Sirius hadn't demonstrated any signs of grief or depression and, as Harry had already told her, he didn't seem to acknowledge – or chose to ignore – any mention to some event he had seen in the memories was a good thing or a bad one was. Geheim had told her that maybe he was in shock. When he said those words Hermione immediately remembered the words of her parent's neighbor in Australia, Mrs. White. Hermione had heard her say her husband exactly the same thing about her. She had also said that if Hermione was in shock, she would explode someday, and that she wouldn't want to be around. Geheim warned her that in Sirius' case, he might finally realise that the memories are true when he returns home. He also told her that if there was an emergency regarding Sirius, he would have to be immediately taken to the floor he was currently in and not to any other floor of St. Mungos.

"Thank you," she said, when he had told her everything. They were in the corridor outside Sirius' room. Geheim had walked her there. "And…" she hesitated. "I'm sorry for the trouble. If there's anything--"

"I believe we have already discussed that."

"Yes… Okay."

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he said, turning to leave. She glanced at him one more time before knocking on Sirius' door.

"Hello," she greeted. He glanced at her and then returned his attention to the magazine in front of him. She shook her head at the sight of a couple of books on his side table. She could only image how boring his days were. "Harry is probably talking with Blake. Before we left Grimmauld Place he said he wanted to know when, exactly, will you be allowed to leave St. Mungos..." she paused. "Apparently it will be soon. Geheim just told me you will be able to leave in a week or so."

He nodded. Absently, he glanced at her again, only to have his eyes fixed on the box on her hands.

"Look," she said, smiling, satisfied he had noticed the box. "I brought you flowers."

Sirius's expression changed from bored to amused. "Flowers," he said dryly.

"Harry mentioned something," she said, recalling Harry telling her something about a painting of flowers. "He didn't specify which flowers you talked about, so I brought something… colourful."

Hermione looked around her, and only then she realised there was no where she could put the flowers. She turned a questioning look to Sirius, who was looking at her with the same expression. He raised an eyebrow and looked again at the box.

"God, you don't have anything here!" she murmured, exasperated.

"Really," he said, rolling his eyes. She had pointed out the obvious. "This actually makes the grim old place sound very welcoming."

"Eager to return, aren't we?" she said, in a playful tone.

"Yes," he murmured.

Hermione bit her lip, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"You have already been allowed to go to the common room, haven't you?"

"Yes, but there isn't much to do… I already brought some magazines and books. But I'm not like you. I can't spend days doing nothing but reading."

"Have you met anyone… uh… who's also here?"

His lips twitched in amusement at her discomfort. "No," he shook his head. "To be honest I tried to go there when I knew no one would be there too. I understand -- and support -- the idea surrounding the concept of the common room, but… it's not easy. Not for me. And probably not for the others too."

Sighing, she walked to the table and, with her back to him so that he wouldn't see the flowers yet, she carefully opened the box and took the bucket. She quickly transfigured the box in a vase and put the bucket in it. She heard Sirius raise from the settee and walking towards her.

"Those aren't from the Hospital Shop of the fifth floor, are they?" he asked with a teasing tone.

She glared at him. "Don't insult me. For your information I went to Rose's Garden in Diagon Alley."

She saw his face turn from curious to amused at the sight of the bucket of flowers – many varieties in many colours – and, especially, at the butterfly at the top of a purple daisy.

"And no," she said. "The butterfly isn't real."

He looked at her and then and the butterfly again. Carefully, he took it in his hand. In the exact moment he did it, the butterfly exploded in a rain of stars, startling both of them.

"That was worth every knut," he murmured.

She smiled. "I didn't know that would happen…" Then it hit her. "Now that you mention knuts… Harry inherited everything. We will have to --"

"Harry already mentioned that," he interrupted. "He said he would go to Department of Magical Law Enforcement and then to Gringotts. I assume he has already dealt with that since it has been weeks."

At that moment, Harry came into the room. After greeting Sirius, he turned to Hermione and said: "I have just talked with Geheim about the Resurrection Stone."

"Good," Hermione said, nodding. "I'm sure they will be interested in any bit of information they can get."

"What about it?" Sirius asked.

"That was one of the things I wanted to discuss with you," Harry admitted. "It was in one of my memories… But when I tried to talk you always changed subject."

Sirius' body went stiff. He looked away from Harry's gaze.

"I thought you wanted to talk about…" he sighed. "I don't know."

Harry shrugged. "That's okay." He glanced at Hermione, who nodded in encouragement. Harry cleared his throat. "As you saw in one of the last memories, before I went to see Voldmort I used the Resurrection Stone."

Sirius' body relaxed, and he listened to his godson attentively.

"You obviously know the story of the Deathly Hollows," Harry said. When Sirius nodded he proceeded. "Supposedly the Resurrection Stone summons spirits… And I have done my bit of research, and these spirits aren't -- well, according to theories, they aren't memories or ghosts..."

He then proceeded to tell them how it was a very odd event that he had seen Sirius' spirit, even though he obviously hadn't died.

"We know that _no_ magic can totally bring back the dead, that's why those rumours are completely idiotic..."

Sirius interrupted, "What rumours?"

"The Daily Prophet --" Hermione said with disdain, earning a snort from Sirius. "— stated that there was some sort of outbreak of resurrection of people at the Ministry," Sirius frowned. "And when the theory was refuted by Geheim, they published something about the Department of Mysteries running some tests on Inferi."

Sirius actually chuckled at that. "So I'm an Inferi now?"

"They haven't published anything else since then. I'm assuming Geheim did something about it," she said, almost grinning.

"But that's the thing," Harry said, frustrated. "Sirius didn't _die_. How could his spirit be summoned by the Stone?"

"Maybe the Stone only projects an image of the people you want to see," Sirius said.

"What about the fact they talked? And that you _weren't_ dead."

"It is possible that you only called out for people you were sure were dead... Maybe those spirits -- or images -- just said what we would say in that situation – like portraits."

Harry didn't sound convinced.

"You lost the Stone, though," Hermione said. "There is no way to find out."

"What do you know about the Veil?" Sirius asked, changing the subject towards something that at least one person in the room knew real facts of.

"Still very little," Hermione said. "I brought my memories of the period of time in which I studied the Veil if you want to see them…"

"I would rather not," he admitted. He regretted his words when he noticed Hermione looked slightly hurt.

"I would rather you told me."

Hermione spent half a hour telling him everything she knew about the Veil. She was sure he had already been told some of the things by the Unspeakables or by the Healers, but they hadn't been there, while Hermione had. During her speech, Sirius had asked two or three questions, but he had mainly listened to her. When she didn't have any other thing to say, Sirius only nodded and fixed his gaze on the flowers Hermione had brought.

"I also wanted to ask you..." Harry hesitated. "If you remember anything – anything at all – from the time you were… there."

Sirius shook his head. "No," he said. "None of us remembers. At first the Healers thought that maybe we were in shock, but when they tried using Memory Potions and even a dose of Wit-Sharpening Potion, but we can't remember anything."

The three of them remained in silence until Harry, who was looking uncomfortable, said: "I should go now. I have a couple of more hours of training."

Sirius nodded.

"I'll go too," Hermione said. When she reached the door, she turned to Sirius. "By the way, do you want me -- us-- to change something in Grimmauld Place before you arrive?"

He shook his head. "No. I will see what I want changed or not when I arrive. I think I will have _plenty_ of time," he said, sounding almost bitter.

When Harry and Hermione were in the streets of London, heading towards the Leaky Cauldron, Harry said: "He looks fine."

Hermione glanced at him but didn't say anything. Instead, when they were already inside the Leaky Cauldron, she greeted Tom and walked pass the horde of customers and until both Harry and Hermione were behind the building, in the small courtyard, from which they could have access to Diagon Alley.

"You don't think he looks fine?" Harry insisted, probably taking her silence as a bad omen.

"He _looks_ fine," Hermione finally said. "I just don't know if he really _is_ fine."

"What do you mean?"

"I _don't_ know exactly. I just think that, _maybe_, he hasn't realised yet everything that has happened. I'm afraid for him. I don't know how he will cope once he is out of St. Mungos and without daily doses of Calming Draughts, Peace Draughts or Sleeping Draughts..."

"Blake said he will be allowed to take a small dose of them…"

"Just if he _really_ needs them, though," Hermione said, lowering her voice and looking carefully around her, to the crowd of Diagon Alley. "We don't want him addicted..."

Sighing he said, "I know."

* * *


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** _I have – finally – made up my mind about the end. I wasn't sure which of my final versions I wanted to write, but I do now. There will be approximately 6 more chapters, I think._

* * *

**Chapter 18**

_May, 2000_

The previous weeks to Sirius return had been rather chaotic. Firstly, Harry had had several meetings with Shacklebolt. He wanted to make sure Sirius would be able to walk down Diagon Alley without having to worry with people staring and pointing at him. He had been informed no one but some of the Ministry workers knew of Sirius' situation, so it shouldn't be a problem. When this aspect of his return was clear, Harry had started worrying over things like new clothes and personal items. At first Hermione didn't pay much attention, only when she received a letter from Ginny, telling her to talk with Harry since he had nearly drove her insane, she decided to speak with him and calm him down, telling him that when Sirius arrived, he would probably want to buy his own things.

While Harry had been in his meetings with Shacklebolt, Hermione had visited Diagon Alley, searching for a new job. She didn't think it would be wise to try the Ministry so soon, and since the Ministry was the responsible for the employment of more than half of the magical population, she didn't have many choices.

One day, when she was cleaning her bedroom, she found in her desk one of the letters she had received from Geheim, and she was suddenly hit with an idea. That day, she turned her bedroom into a mess while trying to find the file where she had kept most of the information she had gathered of the Veil. Then, she started planning. She would write down everything she knew about the Veil. There were still many things that should be considered, and she needed to know what information she had so far so that she could start asking herself what else they should or could know about the Veil. She was certain that if Geheim knew what she was doing, he would send her a very nasty Howler, screaming at her that she shouldn't meddle with their work, especially after she had told him she wouldn't, but even he would have to admit that it was something that needed to be done, especially with the best source of information about the Veil alive, Sluier. The day before Sirius would be allowed to leave St. Mungos, Hermione was at the library of Grimmauld Place when Harry had arrived from Auror training. As it had become usual since she had talked to him about his worries, he started asking her if they didn't need to buy something. Obviously, it wasn't worry that made him ask her that sort of things. It was merely the fact that he found it amusing to mock with the situation.

"We need to buy more food," Harry said, sitting in the seat opposite of hers. Hermione ignored him. She always did. No matter what absurdity he said. Harry knew that she would ignore him, but that didn't stop him from provoking her every time. It was like a ritual to him, trying to get a reaction from her. However, he hadn't succeeded so far.

"There's a job opening in my Department…" he tried again. "I am sure that if I give them a word they will get in contact with you."

Hermione stopped writing only long enough for her to roll her eyes dramatically. Then, she proceeded to keep on taking notes. If she had looked up, she would have seen a mischievous smile plastered on his face.

After a couple of minutes, Hermione knew that, since Harry was still there, he was going to try to provoke her further. She didn't say anything, though, and kept writing, waiting for his last try.

Harry sighed and, after a dramatic pause, he said, conversationally: "Mrs. Weasley wanted to have a big dinner here at Grimmauld Place in Sirius' honour…"

Hermione immediately stopped writing and snapped her head in his direction. "_What_?" Hermione asked, horrified. "You said no, of course."

Harry stared at his hands, without saying a word.

"Didn't you?" she asked, impatiently waiting for his response. When all he did was look up at her, with a serious expression, she hit his knee, making him wince in pain. After massaging the place she had hit him, Harry looked at her condescendingly. "Of course I said no, Hermione. A dinner with half of the magical world is the last thing he needs."

Hermione leaned against the chair, sighing in relief. "Thank Merlin," she bit her lip. "I… sort of… understand her, but people should start coming to Grimmauld Place one by one. And probably let Sirius know first in case he wants – or not – to meet someone in particular." Harry nodded. "How did she react when you said no?" Hermione asked. She knew that, since it had been Harry, Mrs. Weasley wouldn't try to persuade him into accepting. But if it had been her or one of her sons, then she would have started planning what she would make for dinner and wonder if the Minister would come too.

Harry shook his head, knowing exactly what she was thinking. "She was disappointed."

"I'm glad she asked for your opinion first, though. I can only imagine the regression in Sirius' behaviour if she threw a party…"

The following day, when Sirius arrived with Harry via Floo, Hermione was waiting for them near the portrait of Walburga Black. When he finally stepped out of the fireplace, she saw him observing what surrounded him with a bored expression. Hermione smiled at that. It was pointless to comment anything related to the decoration. The house was practically the same. It was just a tiny bit less dark, since they had changed the curtains and cleaned everything deeply again, and the fireplace wasn't covered in dust anymore. There was one thing he had to point out, though.

He glanced at Harry, who was taking off his cloak and placing it in the wooden coat stand and then fixed his eyes on Hermione, who was obviously aware that he was looking at her and was trying to look at anything but him.

He frowned. "So..." he paused, looking straight at Hermione. If she had been looking at him she would have seen a slight move of his lips that would have turned into a smile if he hadn't managed to hide it. "You could bring me from the Veil, but you didn't manage to take my dear mother's portrait from the wall?"

Hermione's eyes rounded in surprise. She had expected to hear anything but that.

"Uh..." was all she managed to utter.

Harry chuckled, looking amused at both Hermione and Sirius. When she heard Harry, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, you couldn't either. And you're an Auror."

That stopped Harry, who glared at her. "In a year I will be one. And it's not like I had bloody time," he said.

Hermione snorted. "Of course."

Harry would have provoked her further if, in that exact moment, Walburga's portrait hadn't started bawling barbarities. The velvety curtain could barely hide her yellow face contorted in rage. Before Hermione had the time to try to understand what the woman was screaming – she was always curious on what insult the portrait would throw at her – Sirius snapped his wand from his pocket and sent a blast in the direction of the portrait, shutting the curtain completely, muffling the sound until it only sounded like whispers.

Hermione was looking to the wand in Sirius' hand. They must have given it back when he was allowed to leave. She hadn't even thought about his wand.

"My dead mother," he said with a bored tone. "has just welcomed me back home. Rather colourfully, I must add. I had never heard her using the word _ignominy_ before."

After that, he turned his back to both Harry and Hermione and walked towards the stairs that would lead him to his bedroom.

* * *

_June, 2000_

Since he had arrived, Sirius had avoided any contact with Harry and Hermione. He didn't leave his room unless he was sure there would be no chance of him crossing paths with any of them. Sometimes, Hermione would wake up at night and hear noises coming from the kitchen or the bathroom. At first it had scared her, but then she had found out it was Sirius. She had seen him one night, through the keyhole of her room, walking past her chambers, towards the stairs. For a second she had thought of opening the door and pretend she was going to the bathroom, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Sirius wasn't fool. He would have easily seen through her lie. And she wanted him to come to both her and Harry, and not the other way around.

Harry was another person she started worrying with. His worry with Sirius' return had been understandable, and easy to overcome, but Harry had had an odd reaction to Sirius' behaviour. Harry's way of dealing with the situation had been going to Auror training as early as possible and arriving home late. Hermione considered writing Ginny, but then she thought that maybe he had been spending his time with her, and if that was the case, then Ginny wouldn't like it if Hermione told her Harry should be home instead of being with her.

Finally, one evening, Sirius knocked on her bedroom's door, where she had spent most of the day, reading. After she had shouted for him to come in, he seemed to hesitate, since only a few minutes later he did come in.

Hermione, who, when he hadn't come in right after he had knocked she thought that maybe he had changed her mind, had proceeded reading, only put her book aside when he opened the door and walked into her room, leaving the door open.

He sighed heavily, avoiding any eye contact with her, and then announced: "I would like to meet Remus' son."

Hermione, who had been observing the cover of the book, thinking that, maybe, if she wasn't looking at him, he would feel more comfortable, looked up. Her expression changed from calm to worried. The day he had arrived at Grimmauld Place he had looked perfectly healthy – as she had never seen him –, but he seemed tired, as if he had spent the previous nights awake. Dark bags marred his pale skin under his eyes and his clothes needed to be cleaned. Biting her lip, Hermione considered asking him if he had been taking any of his draughts, but she was almost certain he hadn't.

Hermione noticed his body looked stiffer than the moment he had come in. She mentally cursed herself for making him feel uncomfortable. "I will send an owl to Andromeda," she said.

After a moment of silence, he said. "I only want to see Teddy, though."

Hermione nodded, trying not to give much importance to the matter, but she knew that Sirius had just begun his healing process. Maybe, if they took a step at a time there wouldn't be any explosion after all.

Sirius nodded at her and turned his back to leave. It was then that Hermione was hit with a thought. "Wait," she said. He stopped and calmly turned to face her, with a slight frown, as if he was certain she would ask him something about what he had been doing locked in his bedroom.

"I would like to discuss something with you," Hermione said, slowly, as if still unsure if it was a good idea to deal with that then. She knew he noticed her uncertainty, so she said, more confidently: "I think it's time to do something about this matter."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Is this about my Calming Draughts and Dreamless Potions? Don't bother, then," he waved his hand dismissively. "Harry has already spoken with me. I'm not a child, you know."

Hermione's brows frowned. "It isn't about your potions. Library?" she asked, wanting a calming, familiar place to discuss the matter with him, and not someplace as personal as her own chambers. If her suspects proved right, he would be barking like a dog to a postman the moment she started speaking. "Please."

She was the first to leave her room. She walked down the corridor and walked down a row of stairs. Sirius, who had closed the door of her bedroom, was walking lazily behind her, as if waiting for something to happen just so he wouldn't have to talk with her. When they arrived at the library, she nervously grabbed one of the locks of her hair and pondered the best way of introducing the matter.

"So… what do you want to talk about?" he finally asked.

"It is about…" she hesitated, her lips forming a thin line. "Kreacher."

Sirius' eyes rounded in surprise. Then he sighed, feeling both relieved and impatient. "What about him?" he asked, almost snappishly.

"It's just that…" she stopped. Biting her lip, she thought, again, if it really was the best moment to talk about that, especially since all the conversations they had about Kreacher had ended up in one of them – or both – staying mad at the other.

"It's just that… when you… disappeared, Harry became his Master," Sirius nodded, showing her he was following her train of thought. "Now that you are back… you are his Master again."

He frowned. "I don't want to be his Master," he said, bitterly. "Where is he? I'll probably give him some clothes--"

"What? No!"

Sirius made a face. "The war is over, Hermione. It's not like we need him to keep our secrets. And besides, if I freed him, he'll probably kill himself with shame, so our dirty little secrets would be kept safe anyway."

It was Hermione's turn to make a face. Then, to avoid any fight she said: "He is at Hogwarts."

His brows raised in surprise. "Oh, great, then I don't need to bother."

"But, Sirius, it was Harry who sent him there."

"Yes? And what?"

"That's the point!" she said exasperated. "Harry is not his Master anymore. You are!"

He only stared at her.

Hermione sighed, frustrated with the man in front of her. "What I mean with all this is that you have to order him to stay at Hogwarts, like Harry did. Otherwise he'll probably return to Grimmauld Place--"

"Not bloody likely," Sirius interrupted rudely.

"Sirius, please, just—"

"Kreacher!" Sirius suddenly barked, startling Hermione out of her wit.

With her heart pounding on her chest, she saw as the elf appeared in front of them. Hermione looked from Keacher to Sirius, not knowing who held the most hateful stare. Then, the elf bowed down, the tip of his nose touched the floor in a mocking way.

"Master," the elf said, in a bored tone.

Sirius glanced at Hermione, as if showing her how pointless it was to defend such creature, but decided to ignore his elf's behaviour.

"I want you to work for Hogwarts. As long as you're there you will answer to Minerva McGonnagal. You are not to speak of anyone's personal matters to anyone. Now go," Sirius said, disgust evident in his features.

"Yes, Master," he said, and before any of them could say anything else, he disappeared with a _pop_.

Sirius stared at where the elf had been, looking slightly bewildered.

"See?" Hermione said. Sirius' head snapped in her direction, only to see her beaming at him. "It wasn't _that_ bad," she said, smiling, obviously proud of him.

His only response was to glare at her with such ferocity Hermione was glad he wasn't in his Animagus form. Without stopping glaring at her, he walked towards the door, opened it and left the room, shutting the door behind him noisily, making his mother's portrait start howling.

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

**Last chapter:** Sirus finally returned to Grimmauld Place, but he avoids any contact with both Harry and Hermione.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

_August, 2000_

Sirius' situation became worse. Hermione had thought that once he started working on getting rid of the things he didn't want to see every day it would, at least, distract him. And she had thought that Teddy's and Andromeda's visit would, at some rate, improve his mood a little.

That had been stupidly naïve of her, though. To expect him to react normally to the abrupt absence of people he cared about had been incredible idiotic of her.

When Teddy and Andromeda arrived at Grimmauld Place, they went to the kitchen, where Hermione distracted Teddy so that Andromeda could leave the room. Andromeda had understood Sirius' need to see only one person at a time. Unfortunately for everyone, Teddy didn't seem to find Hermione interesting enough not to care if his grandmother was around or not, so when Andromeda left the kitchen, Teddy immediatly started asking about her, and when Hermione hadn't given him an answer that had satisfied him, he started crying. His grandmother's presence was necessary, much to Hermione's disappointment. That had been the first thing that hadn't been according to her plans for that day.

After giving up trying to distract Teddy, Hermione left the kitchen. She saw Sirius outside, looking through a window, as if waiting for a doctor appointment.

"Sirius," she called. He didn't look at her, but she decided to tell him of the little predicament anyway. "I tried to distract Teddy, but he doesn't want to be parted from Andromeda... We could try to discuss another visit, if--"

"It's alright," he said, still not looking at her. "I'll… I'll see him anyway."

When he spoke those words Hermione felt a sort of bubble of happiness erupt inside her. She thought he was finally getting back to normal. She smiled reassuringly at him when he walked by her, towards the door of the kitchen.

She hadn't expected anything to happen, so she started heading in the library's direction. She hadn't even reached the entrance of the library when she heard a door closing noisily, as if someone had thrown it on purpose and then someone running up the stairs.

With her heart pounding, she ran to the kitchen. There she found a pale Andromeda and an oblivious Teddy.

"What happened?" she demanded, a little out of breath.

"Nothing," Andromeda murmured. "Siri-- _he_ came in and looked at us... at Teddy... and just... ran."

"Did he say something?"

"No."

"How did he look?"

"I don't know..." she said, seeming unsure of what to say. "I was looking at Teddy... I thought that if I didn't look at him he wouldn't feel... so... I don't know... so I put Teddy on the floor and said: _Say hi to Sirius, Teddy_, and that was it. The only thing I saw next was the door closing."

Hermione sighed. "Oh, no..."

"Maybe it was too soon."

"Or maybe it was too late," Hermione murmured. "The Healer told us that his, let's say, _relaxed_ reaction to the events of the past years probably meant he was in denial," Hermione ruffled Teddy's blue hair. "Seeing Teddy... it meant that everything really did happen, and now no avoidance will be possible."

"What are you going to do?"

Hermione looked up at Andromeda. "I don't know..."

"If you need anything..."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

The second thing that she hadn't expected happened a couple of hours later, when Harry arrived home from Auror training. She knew something was wrong when he came to the library, like he always did, because he knew she would always be here at that time, and didn't interrupt her reading, neither commented on a new job position. After completing reading a passage, she carefully closed the book and looked up at him.

"Don't tell me you have already heard?" she wanted to know, lowering her voice so that only he could listen. The last thing she needed was Sirius hearing what they were saying about him.

"Heard about what?" he asked, frowning.

She bit her lip. "About Teddy's visit..."

His frown deepened. "No, I haven't heard anything about that. What happened?"

"Apparently... nothing. He's locked in his room since he saw him."

"No surprise there," Harry said, sounding slightly bitter.

She sighed. "I'm sure he-– _we_ only need more time to adjust to the changes."

"Well," he sighed, sitting next to her. "If that is so then the perfect opportunity has arisen."

For some reason Hermione didn't like his tone. "What opportunity?"

"It seems Ron and I will need to go to France sooner than we expected. And we still don't know exactly what we are supposed to do there... We're leaving tomorrow."

"You're leaving now?" she asked, a bit shocked with his words. "You... how can this be the perfect opportunity?"

"He's always avoiding us!" he exclaimed. "I haven't seen him since the day he arrived at Grimmauld Place... I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but it wasn't _this_."

"Wht...?" she started, but stopped when she realised what he was talkinga bout. "Harry..."

"And don't do that!" he said, abruptly raising from the sofa.

Hermione sent him a look that clearly said for him not to speak so loudly.

"And I don't care about that too," he said, looking like a petulant child.

Hermione sighed, starting to feel slightly irritated at him. "Will you stop that?" she snapped. "Did you just found out you had to go tomorrow?"

For some reason she didn't think the Ministry would only inform them hours before they needed to leave. When she saw his guilty expression she knew. "How long have you known?"

"A week, more or less."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" she asked, bewildered.

Without looking at her, he said: "I don't know. I haven't felt exactly at home here..."

"Harry…" she walked towards him to comfort him, but he shook his head. "Believe me, Harry, we just need time."

"Yeah... and I think I prefer to spend that time in France," he said, leaving the room and leaving Hermione even more confused.

* * *

The following day Hermione decided to meet William Geheim. She had finished her annotations about the Veil. Only the testimonies of the people who had returned from the Veil were missing. She had tried talking with Sirius, but she hadn't even been able to make him open the door of his room. But perhaps Geheim had already reports of their testimonies and would only need to add what she had written.

When she arrived at the Ministry of Magic and requested to speak with William Geheim, she only had to wait a couple of minutes before someone took her to the corridor of the Department of Mysteries. Before she had the opportunity to knock at the door, Geheim opened is brusquely and looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Miss Granger," he said, with a nod. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She opened her mouth, but he turned his back to her and sat behind his desk. "Please sit. I am afraid your visits always take time."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. When she sat, and before he could make another of his comments, she said: "You will probably want to kill me after I tell you what I did."

He looked at her with a calm, almost bored, expression for a couple of seconds. Then, he rolled his eyes and joined his fingertips together.

"What have you done now, Miss Granger?"

"I wrote down every single thing I could find about the Veil, Sluier and the way to bring people back from it."

He visibly relaxed. "Is that all you did?"

She frowned. "Yes, sir."

"After the incident with the Veil I was expecting a disaster," he said with a sigh. "But that actually might prove us helpful... since you were one of the main... parties involved."

Hermione's eyebrows raised in surprise and amusement at his choice of words. She knew he would think that eventually, she just hadn't expected it to be so quickly. Without a word she took the file from her bag and handed it to her former Head.

She was going to ask if they had already archived the testimonies of the patients – even if the only thing she was expecting was him telling her to mind her own business –, but before she could say a word the door of Geheim's office opened and a man – the same man Hermione had seen Geheim speak before she had wanted to talk to him one of the last times she was asked to meet him.

"Mr. Geheim, I am sorry to interrupt. I thought you had requested my presence, but since you are busy I will--"

"I did," Geheim interrupted, giving what almost seemed a nervous glance towards Hermione. "Miss Granger was just leaving."

She wasn't, of course, but it was obvious that he didn't want her to stay there one more minute.

"Miss... Granger?" the man asked with a pensive expression.

"Miss Granger," Geheim said, ignoring what the man had said, standing from his chair.

She stood too and said: "Of course. Please do inform me if the documents are good enough to--"

"I'm sure they are."

She bid him goodbye and when she passed by the man she nodded at him, in a polite gesture that wasn't returned.

* * *

When she returned at Grimmauld Place she immediately perceived a change. She heard sounds from the upper floor and since it couldn't be Harry – after their conversation the day before she expected he would have gone to France already –, it could only mean that Sirius was out of his room. Her heart jumped a little at that prospect. Walking as soundlessly as possible, she made her way towards the place where the sounds came.

She found herself in front of the door of the library. Careful not to make any sound, she opened the door. The first thing she saw was Sirius looking carefully at the front cover of a book and then throw it to – what she saw with unadultered horror – a pile of books on the floor next to him

"What--" she shrieked, outraged, the door hitting noisily against the wall.

"What the--" she heard him say, turning to face her with a surprised expression.

She walked to him and violently took the books he had on his arms from him and asked, angry, "What are you doing? Have you finally gone completely and irreversibly _insane_?"

He rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like: "Some things will never change." Then, he turned to her and said, with a serious face. "I am getting rid of a couple of books… but since you – obviously – won't allow me to look at them properly now, I'll have a look later, then," he said, walking towards the door.

"No way!" she shouted. "You won't touch any of these books."

He turned to her, an amused expression on his face.

"They are mine, Hermione."

"Well, that's---" she stumbled on words. "I--- but--- _Why_ are you getting rid of books?"

He sighed. "I'm not exactly getting rid of them" he said, ignoring her raised eyebrow. "I have decided to send the books you see on the floor to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement… I'm not sure which Office, but I suppose someone will inform me."

Hermione placed the books she had in her hands in the pile and asked: "You think some of the books might have... curses?"

He shrugged. "I don't know really, but I wouldn't doubt... don't forget whose library this is."

She nodded. "Why don't you just ask someone to come to Grimmauld Place?"

"I don't want strangers here. And... if one of the books is actually dangerous, I would rather it would be far from here."

"Oh, I had never thought..."

"I'm not completely useless," he said, in a tone that Hermione couldn't quite well decipher if jesting or telling what he really thought.

In a tone that she tried to sound likes his, she said: "I never thought that."

He snorted, but didn't say anything else.

"I... Sirius, I still don't know exactly how to deal with all this... new situations..."

"You're not the only one…" he said dryly.

"But I think that everything will turn out fine..." she said with a small smile.

He looked at her for what seemed forever, but she knew was only a couple of seconds. There was something in his eyes. She was certain that he didn't completely believe in what she had said. When he spoke, she was surprised at his words.

"Don't pretend to care, Hermione."

She sighed, frustrated. "What are you talking about?"

He didn't answer at first. He only looked at her with a haunted expression. She realised he probably wasn't aware that his face – especially his eyes – would speak for him.

"I heard you and Harry yesterday," he said with a hoarse voice.

Hermione gaped at him, not knowing what to say.

"I wasn't eavesdropping," he clarified. "I was simply making sure you two were distracted enough not to notice me going to the kitchen. When I heard Harry..."

She didn't know what to say.

"It doens't matter... I suppose I should have expect it"

"What exactly?" she managed to ask.

"I heard Harry say he is not feeling home. I suspect it has only been that way since I am here..."

"It's not—"

"I don't blame him, Hermione. He left to France and--"

"Harry is not leaving because he _wants_," she interrupted. She needed to make him _understand_. "It's not just an excuse to get out of Grimmauld Place for a while."

"No," he agreed. He turned his back to her and, before leaving her in the library, said, "It's better than that, don't you think? He won't need to find an excuse to leave. He already has."


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: It took me longer than I expected, but hopefully you'll enjoy this one. :)

* * *

**Chapter 20**

_September, 2000_

Only two weeks after Harry had left, Hermione realised how much she missed him. After spending weeks waiting for him to return to Grimmauld Place, or to, at least, write them a letter saying everything was okay, she decided she would wait for him to return to speak with him. Occasionally she would receive small notes from Mrs. Weasley, telling her both Harry and Ron were fine, just too busy.

With Sirius still locked in his room and the library starting to have less and less books, thanks to Sirius' seemingly fruitful searches, Hermione started going for walks after lunch. It also gave Sirius the perfect opportunity to leave his room without having to cross paths with her if he didn't want to.

One day, she went to her usual walk, but quickly returned to Grimmauld Place because she had forgotten to take with her a book (sometimes she just liked to read in a different place) and practically bumped into Sirius. After an awkward silence and an even worse attempt at conversation, she asked him if he wanted to go with her to a park near Grimmauld Place. He looked at her with a strange expression, so Hermione said that if he was afraid of being recognised, he could go as Padfoot. The transformation in his facial expression was something Hermione always remembered with a smile. He had agreed, and she could swear she had seen his eyes glinting with what could be true happiness.

"What do you're locked in your room all day?" she asked one day, curious to what he could possibly spend the whole day doing. They were in a park. She had stopped reading the book she had taken with her to look at him. He had been running through the park in his dog form and was resting next to her.

He didn't answer, however, and Hermione didn't ask again, especially because she wasn't sure if he hadn't answered because he hadn't listened, because he didn't want to answer or because he was in his Animagus form.

That day they hadn't gone for their usual walk because it had been raining a lot, but Hermione didn't want to stay inside. Hermione put her cloak on and went downstairs to fetch her scarf. Before she could reach it, she tripped over the umbrella stand made from a _disgusting_ severed leg of a troll and fell on her knees. She started to count until ten, her eyes fixed on a spot on the ground. She had reached number seven when she saw a pair of dragon hide boots.

"Are you alright there?"

She looked up, eyes flashing. "No, I am _not_ alright."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, but seemed to decide to ignore her snappish mood. He held out his hand to help her raise to her feet.

"I can't believe you wanted to get rid of books – _books_! – and haven't disposed of this... this... this _disgusting_ thing yet!" she said, brusquely trying to compose herself.

He shook his head. "I'll get rid of it..." he said, rolling his eyes. Then, he added, with a small smile "I still remember when Tonks used to fall every-" he stopped abruptly and Hermione froze when she saw him pale. He cursed under his breath and she did the same mentally.

She looked around her trying to think of something to say and when she was hit with something she promptly said it, without thinking much about it.

"Do you want to come with me to Diagon Alley?"

She immediately regretted asking it. For a second it had seemed a good idea – a good way out of that awkward silence –, until she had _heard_ how ridiculous it sounded. And the way he looked at her – as if she had admitted liking his mother's portrait or something like that – didn't improve the situation.

"You've got to be kidding me. It would only take a second for people to notice me."

Since it would sound even more ridiculous to back away, she insisted. "They won't." The look on his face told her he wasn't convinced. "Believe me, they won't. Diagon Alley has never been this crowded. People won't glance at you even if they bump into you, making you fall..." she saw him raise his eyebrow and sighed. "It's an ordinary occurrence, believe me. It's practically scientifically proved."

He shook his head, but it seemed Hermione he only needed a little bit more of convincing.

"Come on, aren't you tired of going outside as Padfoot?" she asked. Sirius nodded reluctantly. "You don't need to worry," she said, patting him in the arm. "I'll take care of you. Now go fetch a dark cloak or something like that. I'll wait here."

He looked at her with an amused expression but said nothing. Instead, he did as she said.

* * *

As usual, Diagon Alley was chaotic. Hermione still found it hard to believe how easily the wizarding folk had gotten used to the fact that there was no more apparent danger in the world, with Voldmort dead and the remaining Death Eaters in Azkaban. Or maybe they had never truly realised how dangerous it all had been a couple of years prior, but she found that even harder to believe.

There was something else that bothered every time she visited Diagin Alley. Every single person seemed to know where they were heading. Every time she stepped into the hectic alley she thought about the fact that she hadn't had any job in months. She never imagined her actual situation. It seemed ridiculous.

"What's the matter?"

She looked up from the floor in front of her to Sirius' eyes. He seemed to be trying to find the reason she was so abnormally quiet. Since they had started their little ritual of going out, she had always found something to talk about, even if he couldn't answer in his dog form.

"I'm wasting my time," she confessed with a sigh.

He stopped abruptly in the middle of the way, making a wizard in colourful robes bump into him. Much to Sirius' relief, the man had ignored him and kept walking.

"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning.

Only then she understood she must have sounded extremely rude out of her mental context.

"I... It's been a while since I have spent hours working really hard..." she shrugged. "I need a job."

His features lightened, the small, almost unnoticeable, twinkle in his eyes returned to its place. "You don't need a job," he said, imitating her shrug and starting walking again. She hopped to follow and glanced at him, with a look that showed him she thought he was being a bad influence already.

"What are you talking about? Of course I need a job. I've been uttely useless the past months."

He raised an eyebrow. "You've been just like me, then."

She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he shook his head. "No, Hermione, what I mean is that you don't _need_ a job." She looked up at him with an incredulous expression and he flashed a smile at her. A beautiful, brilliant, genuine smile. It was so unexpected she could only stare. "You _want_one."

She stared at him. "I want what?" she asked clueless.

He frowned down at her. "A job."

She stopped staring only to roll her eyes. "Of course I want one. If I don't get a job soon I am certain I will die of boredom."

She glanced at him only to see him shaking his head in amusement.

"Well, it's the truth!"

After a while she noticed him inspecting something through the window of a shop from the corner of her eye. When she found out what it was she waited until he looked at her. When he did and raised one of his eyebrows in a silent question, she said, rolling her eyes dramatically.

"A leather jacket. I should have known."

"What?" he asked, defensively, but there was something in his expression that told her he was amused.

"You didn't have a motorcycle for nothing..." she said in a teasing tone. It was refreshing to see him act as his old self. She found herself smiling at him more often than she thought she would in their situation.

"Hey!" he said, looking insulted. And then, he looked at her as if he had suddenly remembered something. "It's your birthday this month, isn't it?"

She felt herself redden. "Yes…" she murmured, trying to sound casual.

"How old will you be?" he asked with a lopsided smile.

"Twenty one," she said dismissively, looking at windowns as they walked by.

"Twenty one?" he repeated, surprised.

"Yes..." she murmured, not focused on Sirius, but on something that was behind him.

"Oh god..." she whispered, when she read the huge, bold words of the headline of The Daily Prophet: _What is the Ministry hiding?_

He frowned. Then paled. His eyes were fixed on hers, as if looking somewhere else would make people notice him and realise who he was.

"What?" he questioned in a murmur, both demanding and fearful.

Ignoring his question, she walked past him, in the direction of the newspaper. Under the headline she read: _What is hidden in the Department of Mysteries?_

He turned to follow her and saw what had made her react that way. He just frowned.

"I'm sure someone in the Department of Mysteries will take care of it. It's-"

"Hey," someone said. "You're one of them."

Sirius looked down at the man who had talked. He was holding a box with more copies of _The Daily Prophet_.

"Aren't you?" the man insisted, without eve blinking, as if Sirius could disappear at any moment.

"What is this?" Hermione demanded, taking one o the journals from the man's arms.

His small eyes glared at Hermione. "Oi, you'll have to buy it if you want to read it!" the man yelled, trying to reach and take the newspaper from Hermione, but since he was still holding the box, he gave up before all the newspapers fell from it. Hermione ignored him. For a couple of seconds she could only gape at the picture in front of her. It was of her, Harry and Sirius leaving St. Mungos. She scanned through the article to see if it mentioned to the person who had spoken about the Department of Mysteries, but there was nothing. She frowned at the article. It made no sense for the picture to come out so late, it had been taken four months ago. She looked up, only to see the people who came out of the newspaper shop glancing curiously at Sirius and her. She looked around her and saw some of the people who past by them glancing too. She turned to Sirius, who seemed to be as aware of their glances as her.

"Miss! Give me back the bloody newspaper, or pay for it!" the man said, grabbing Hermione's arm forcefully.

"What?" Hermione hadn't been paying attention to the man, and when she felt him grab her arm she only glared. "Do you want me to call the Aurors, miss?"

"There," she said, tossing it carelessly into the box on the floor. "Now let go of me."

But her little show only seemed to have gotten some of the costumers' attention. And not only to her, but to Sirius too. She saw as one of them eyed Sirius suspiciously and then left the shop. Another one passed by him and stopped in front of him with the newspaper in his hands, looking from Sirius to the newspaper.

Before she knew it, there were other people surrounding him.

"Let go of me," she said to the owner of the newspaper shop.

"I should make you pay for the newspaper, you silly girl," the man said, finally letting go of her arm and sending her a disgusting look.

She turned to talk to Sirius and saw an old woman pushing his shirt and saying something at him. _How had that happened?_ Hermione thought to herself.

She looked around her, trying to find the best way out. When she realised she was being stupid because they could just Apparate back to Grimmauld Place, she opened her mouth to say that to Sirius, but suddenly, both Sirius and her were grabbed and Apparated away.

* * *

"Really, Miss Granger."

She flinched at Geheim's tone. Sharp and cold like a dagger. She didn't think he had ever been that disappointed with her. Not even when she broke a thousand laws to try to solve the mystery of the Veil.

"I remember asking you not to meddle with our businesses."

"I didn't, sir. I was just walking with Sirius... when I saw that headline."

"The matter is being solved."

"Couldn't the newspaper be confiscated?" Sirius asked, surprising everyone. His tone was curious, there was no anger or distress.

"We must have an authorization for that," Geheim calmly explained. His tone was completely different from the one he had used to Hermione. "From the Wizengamot. You probably understand it takes a little time. Meanwhile, we're trying to find out who took the photograph. Rest assured that the person will pay for his – or her – crime."

Sirius nodded, understanding, and seeming to do it better than Hermione.

"Until this matter is solved Mr. Black will have to stay at home."

"What?" Hermone exclaimed. "But you can't!"

Geheim looked at her with the same look someone would use on a petulant child. "I can. And I have made my mind."

"Surely there are other ways to make sure he is safe!"

"If he would rather return to St. Mungus Hospital, I am sure it could be arranged."

"No!" both Hermione and Sirius said. She blushed. Only then she realised she had been speaking for him in matters that he could perfectly stand up for.

"We'll just go home," Sirius said, calmly.

Geheim nodded at them. Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could say anything else, even a thank you, Sirius grabbed her arm. She looked up at him and he shook his head at her. She knew what he was thinking. He had stayed so long in the house that he was used to it, so it would be okay.

After a nod of agreement, she placed a hand on his arm and felt his stiff body immediately relax at the contact.

"Yes, let's go home," she said, for the first time deciding to leave it to the Ministry to solve the problem.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: It's been a long time! I actually had to read some of the chapters to make sure I wasn't going to repeat things. I also noticed a really, really silly sentence. It's so silly I spent a couple of minutes trying to recover from my fit of giggles (in chapter 20 I wrote: "With a nod, Geheim nodded at them". How silly is that! I've changed it already, of course. Please forgive my brain. Please. And next time, hit me. Hard).

& Believe it or not, this is almost done. A couple of more chapters and that's it. Actually it took me so much time since I replied to the last review because I wrote almost three chapters. Hopefully until the end of September I'll publish them.

Thank you for all your comments. :)

* * *

**Chapter 21**

**September, 2000**

Hermione would have hexed anyone who would have dared to approach her after she and Sirius arrived at Grimmauld Palce. Before she had the chance to express her outrage at Geheim's way of assuring Sirius' protection, he marched upstairs, clearly not in the mood to hear anything about the subject.

She was going to add that to the list of reasons she had all the right to curse her life – after all, it had been her fault; what a fool she had been to think that he wouldn't be recognised in Diagon Alley! – when she heard an owl trying to get her attention by hitting the window lightly. After she gave it a cookie and thanked her – the last thing she needed was being bitten by an owl – she focused on the letter. She had already recognised Harry's handwriting in the envelope and she almost tore the letter up trying to get rid of the envelope.

"Harry better have a valid excuse for his silent treatment," she mumbled, unfolding it. "And it better not be one of his crisis."

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm sorry. I've been a prat. The truth is that Sirius' return brought too many memories I wish I had the courage to erase – but keeping them is what's brave, right?_

_Would you mind explaining my annoying silence to Sirius? I know what he must think. And I know what _you_ have been thinking too. But you're better than me at dealing with traumatic experiences. You are always the one who is able to remain sensible during crisis… I know I have been asking a lot from you – I always did, didn't I –, but please, pelase, help on this._

_Ron and I wi__'ll return to England in a couple of days. Mrs. Weasley has written me and told me she really wants to throw a mini party for Ron and I. She also thought we could celebrate your birthday at the same time, but she's afraid you won't even go to the dinner. I think it's because of what happened last year. _

_Since we still don't know exactly when we'll return – but I can assure you I'll be there in a couple of days -, she hasn't set a date yet._

_Again, I _am_ sorry._

_Yours,_

_Harry_

_

* * *

_

Hermione could only stare at the letter. _I am sorry. _How dared he? When he returned to Grimmauld Place he would have a lot to hear from her, and not all of it would be pleasant. Most of it, actually.

"You're still here?"

She looked up from the letter to Sirius. She was happy to see he wasn't going to lock himself in his bedroom again.

"Yes. I got a letter from Harry."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and waited for her to decide if she was going to say something else or not.

She was trying to think of the best way to say what Harry had asked of her, but after a couple of seconds she gave up with a deep sigh.

"Here," she handed him the letter. "Just read it."

He frowned, hesitating, before reaching out to grab the parchment.

She bit her lip, undecided if she should stay or leave him alone. Her stomach made a funny noise and she realised she hadn't eaten since breakfast. It was the perfect excuse to leave the hall. She awkwardly said she was going to get something from the kitchen. She didn't wait for him to say anything and left.

A couple of minutes later Sirius found her eating a toast and checking the jobs section of several magical newspapers. She glanced at him and frowned at his expression. She still hadn't gotten used to seeing him like that: constantly hesitating before saying something, dark circles under his eyes (even if not as dark as in the beginning), and with that constant expression of someone who had lost something very important but didn't know where to start looking for. She turned her eyes back to the newspaper. She always felt a bit insecure around him when he hesitated. She never knew how to behave. She averted her attention to a particular ad, but didn't interest her further. There weren't much job offers, and there were even less for someone who didn't want to work for the Ministry.

"I never thought I'd see you trying to find a job," he said, sitting in the chair in front of her, and added, smiling a bit bitterly: "I always imagined you'd lose track of all the offers you'd receive."

She let out a chuckle, and said, without looking up: "Actually, I never really knew what to do with my life," she frowned in thought. "Except when I was fifteen and was absolutely certain I would free all elves."

He chuckled. "I remember. It wasn't that long ago for me."

"No... not even for me…" she gave him a small smile. "I guess I always wanted to help, but…" she shook her head awkwardly.

"Not anymore?"

She stick her tongue at him and chuckled along with him at her childish behaviour.

"It seemed I'm not particularly good at it. It didn't work that well for you, did it?" she commented, lightly, but she regretted saying it when he frowned.

"I'm sorry for that," he murmured. "And it worked just fine for me when I was about to get the Dementor's Kiss and you and Harry saved me."

She sighed. "Actually, I'm only sorry for this mess…"

"I also apologise for that," he said in a gloomier tone.

"Don't be silly," she said, before both of them depressed themselves to death. "It's not your fault."

He raised an eyebrow. "That is arguable."

She hated when he blamed himself for something that clearly wasn't his fault, but before she could tell him it wasn't his fault, she saw him looking to something behind her.

"Another letter arrived," he said, breaking the silence.

Hermione opened the window, the owl, black, with big yellow eyes, that Hermione immediately recognised, flied directly to the table, where it started eating Hermione's toast. Hermione sighed heavily, leaning down to get the letter the owl had discarded when it entered through the window. Clearly, the owl had the same boldness as its owner. She was going to open Geheim's letter when she noticed it wasn't for her. She blushed at her own action and looked at Sirius, who was observing her, waiting for her to read and tell him.

"It's for you," she admitted, handing him the letter.

He looked surprised, but it only lasted a couple of seconds; he took the letter from her hands and started reading. She could see his eyes moving as he read each word. There was nothing in his expression that hinted what the letter was specifically about – since the general topic was pretty obvious. When he finished it, he folded it and put it in his pocket. He smiled when he noticed Hermione's expectant look.

"I have a meeting with Geheim in five days," he explained. "I hope Harry arrives until then… he's supposed to go with me."

"If he doesn't, I will go with you," she offered quickly.

Sirius smiled again. "Geheim specifically wrote that it must be the main 'guardian' – his words, not mine. I wouldn't mind if you went."

She frowned, but didn't take it personally. It would have been extremely unprofessional of Geheim to decide no second 'guardian' could go because of her past actions.

"Okay, then. I don't think there's anything to worry about. Harry will be here in one, two… three days, tops."

And he was. Two days later Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place. The first thing Hermione did was tell him that Sirius needed to speak with him. He had frowned, but didn't say a word. Half a hour later, he was back and asked her if she wanted to go with him to The Burrow. She declined, raising the book from her lap, showing him she was busy. She was still a bit mad for the way he had tried to make her speak to Sirius instead of himself. She knew he was still getting used to all this, but so was she, and Sirius, and everyone, really. Not like Harry, she knew, but it was still hard for everyone.

"You should go, you know," he said, sounding slightly irritated, or maybe it was just tired. "To set a good example to Sirius Otherwise he'll never leave Grimmauld Place."

Hermione could have laughed. If that had been said in another context, she would have laughed.

"Sirius isn't a child. He doesn't need me to set him an example."

Harry didn't answer and left from the fireplace in the library, leaving dust everywhere. Hermione glared at the place he had just been and decided to ask Sirius to see if they could lock that entrance. She had had a lot of work in getting rid of centuries of dust in some of the books. She wasn't going to let that sort of thing happen again – even if she did have the time to clean them, since she was currently jobless, and even if the library didn't have half the books, thanks to Sirius.

It didn't take him a hour to return, which surprised Hermione. She kept on reading, ignoring the fact that he had spread dust everywhere again, and ignoring the fact that the only thing he did was stand there between the fireplace and her. After a couple of minutes, she couldn't stand it anymore. She sighed.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"

She looked up to see his worried expression. She almost regretted her relatively brusque tone. Almost.

"You took him outside?" he asked, shocked.

"What?"

She was taken aback when he seemed to explode.

"You took Sirius to Diagon Alley? What were you thinking? Mr. Weasley told me he was recognised and had to be taken to the Ministry otherwise his safety was ensured!"

"You make it sound a lot worse than what really was…"

"Something could have happened!"

"But it didn't! It wasn't even the first time we went out. And if it hadn't happened then, it would have ended up happening later."

"Not necessarily," he retorted.

She took a deep breath, but couldn't help looking incredulously at him. "You're right," she said, her voice lower than before, but dripping with sarcasm. "If he stays here _forever_, nothing will happen." She glared at him. "Oh, wait, he will just be depressed and miserable and imprisoned. It sounds a little too much like what he described of Azkaban, doesn't it? And wouldn't that be _nice_!"

"There's no need to use that tone. I was just worried."

"Were you, Harry? Really? Either you're lying or the letters you sent him while you were in France were intercepted."

"What letters?" he asked confused.

"Exactly!"

Both of them were silent for a couple of seconds.

"Look, I don't want to fight…" he was interrupted by her snort. "Mrs. Weasley is planning a dinner for Ron and I, as I have told you. It's tomorrow. Now I'm going to speak to Sirius. See you tomorrow."

He started walking to the door when she said: "Just make sure that, if he goes, he is seated in one of the corners of the table"

He didn't answer. She sat there listening to his steps until the sound faded. Only then she went to bed.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**September, 2000**

"Sirius is getting ready," Harry said anxiously. "I'm going to the Burrow to warn everyone."

"Tell them to just nod at him and keep talking between themselves... or something. The last thing we need if for someone to gape at him," Hermione pleaded. She hoped with all her heart Sirius didn't hear them. "It'll make everything easier. Please."

He gave her a small smile and nodded in agreement. He put on his coat and, after glancing at her one more time, he left through the green flames.

Hermione ran to her bedroom to finish getting ready. She was still wearing the type of clothes she normally wore when at home. She hadn't chosen anything particularly nice to wear for dinner; just her plain, comfortable jeans and a blouse. After she put on her boots, she decided that it wouldn't be that bad if she wore a bracelet or earrings, so she started searching for the little box where she kept the very few pieces of jewellery she owned.

She opened the drawer of her desk and took everything from it, in an effort to find it. When she did, she chose something that matched her clothes. After that, she gathered everything and threw them back to the drawer, taking a mental note to organise it the next day. When in the process, a letter fell to the floor. Hermione's eyes widened, recognising it immediately, but she had no time to deal with Australia or her parents now. Without trying to think much about it, she leaned down to get it.

"Damnit. It keeps falling..." she murmured to herself, putting it back in the drawer.

"Everything alright?" she heard from the door.

She found him standing there, and would admit it out loud, but only if someone asked, that she was a bit shocked at what she saw. He looked healthy. And clean. And _normal_. He didn't cut his hair or the faint beard she had gotten used to since he returned, but he didn't look like he had just gotten out some prison or from the street, which was a clear improvement. She walked to him and marvelled at the absence of dark circles under his eyes. And his clothes were new, she was sure of it. Harry must have bought them; she thought bitterly that they hadn't had the time to do it the last time they had been to Diagon Alley.

He smiled, almost uncertainly. He knew she was observing him. She beamed up at him, going back a few steps to close the drawer rather brusquely. She noticed him looking at it, but paid no special attention.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

When he confirmed, she added: "Would you mind Apparating? I swear the fireplaces of this house are particularly annoying. All that dust..." she shrugged. She knew he understood.

"Why don't we do it in only one row?" she added, after he shrugged at her proposal. "Save energy?"

He raised an eyebrow, but looked amused. "I won't run away," he said. "Not from the dinner anyway. But sure, why not?" he said, shaking his head with a smile.

She got closer to him and grabbed his arm. She breathed in, to concentrate for the Apparition, and sensed his smell.

It was a strange mixture: sweet and bitter at the same time; she couldn't discern exactly what was, but it was almost flowery, and absolutely striking. It literally made her mouth water. It was ridiculous, really, but it did happen. She had never noticed it before and she knew for a fact that he showered everyday, so it wasn't like he had finally decided to take a bath. She shook her head to herself, realising how silly she was being; she was starting to sound like a teenager. It was probably that she had never been that close to him. She didn't know why she had tried to associate the smell with something in particular; it was just his smell, his and his alone.

"What?" he asked, frowning at her from above.

She shook her head, smiling dismissively, trying to imagine what he would think if she admitted what had just been on her mind. Well, she was sure that at least it would make him smile... or look at her like she had finally gone senile.

"I won't let you Apparate us to the party if you don't say it," he said, sounding purposefully like a petulant child.

"I..." she felt herself blush. For only a second she pondered making something up, but gave up, because she couldn't think of anything else with him looking at her like _that_. "Nothing important. I just thought you smell nice," she said, with a teasing tone.

He snorted. "Were you already used to my normal dog smell?"

She lightly hit him on his chest, shaking her head and smiling in amusement, but before she had the time to say anything else, he Apparated both of them to the entrance of The Burrow.

She was going to joke with him, telling him that she was the one supposed to Apparate them, but the light atmosphere had immediately vanished. She was still grabbing his arm and felt him tense. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Don't worry. I won't abandon you to the wolves."

He gave her a small smile and was actually the first of them who entered the ever strange house. She followed him towards the sound of people talking animatedly. Before they entered the dining room, Mrs. Weasley came searching for them.

"Come on!" Mrs. Weasley said to them, waving her hand frantically, inciting them to go to the dining room. "Dinner is ready."

Harry and the Weasleys greeted them, but didn't say much more. She heard Sirius sigh in what was probably relief. She noticed Percy sent a curious glance at Sirius, but nothing out of the ordinary.

"There, on the other end of the table, please," Mrs. Weasley said, still waving her hands nervously. "That's what you get by being the last ones," she said, sounding like she was chastising them, but tenderly.

While the plates levitated towards them – that was the only possible way of eating at The Burrow – Mrs. Weasley tried to get Hermione's attention. For a moment she couldn't breathe properly. She was afraid of what the matriarch would talk about.

"Hermione, dear, I was a bit disappointed when Harry told me you didn't want to celebrate your birthday tonight."

"I wouldn't want to rob them of the spotlight," she said, trying to sound funny, but clearly failing for some reason she couldn't understand. She thought she had sounded relatively humorous. She looked to Sirius and he gave her a lopsided grin.

Then Ron snorted. "You always robbed people's chances to be in the spotlight when we were at Hogwarts."

She frowned. She wasn't sure if he was trying to be funny or was simply provoking her, but, for some reason, she felt irritated. She retorted brusquely: "That had got nothing to do with wanting to be in the spotlight."

"_Ron_!" Mrs. Weasley said, a clear warning in her voice. "So, Hermione, dear, do you have any idea of what kind of career you want to pursue?"

"No, not yet. And I'm afraid there aren't many job openings here."

Hermione had always had some sort of satisfying answer to that question. After all, she had spent her life being sure of everything that she did. It felt horrible not knowing what to say. But it felt even worse because she didn't want to know. Not for now. Not until she had sorted out other – more important – things. In a way, it felt horrible because it was actually liberating.

"Why not research?" Mrs. Weasley suggested.

"That's always an option," Hermione admitted.

"Or an internship," Mr. Weasley added, offering her a kind smile.

She smiled back and nodded, for some reason, feeling a bit fake. "That too."

She was starting to feel uncomfortable. It wasn't like Ron said. She didn't like being in the spotlight. She never had and she suspected she never would. Fortunately, Ron asked for everybody's attention, saying he had some important news. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked curiously to their son, who clasped his hands together with the nerves.

"Harry and I... we were invited to join a special group of Aurors who will stay for a bit longer in France." He looked to every single one of the people present, giving everybody the chance to say something – maybe congratulating? Hermione could only frown. She hadn't known. Had they planned that to be a surprise? She was going to glance at Sirius, but her attention was driven to Mrs. Weasley's seat.

"A—A—Again?" Mrs. Weasley stammered, tears forming in her eyes. "Can't you refuse? Can't you go another time?"

"We could have refused... but we have already accepted, mum. Hopefully they won't ask for more help… And we don't know how long we'll be there… maybe three months or maybe a year… It really depends."

"When are you leaving?" Mr. Weasley asked. He gave his son the same kind smile he had given Hermione. He was already used to his wife's reactions to any of her children leaving home, so he had become the practical one over the years.

Ron shrugged and looked at Harry.

"I think we have a couple of weeks... a month, if we're lucky... for ourselves before returning..." Harry answered.

After that they were all invited for a drink in the living room, since it was a special occasion, but Hermione refused after seeing Sirius' tense expression.

Mrs. Weasley tutted.

"You two spend far too much time away from everybody else," she shook her head, seeming almost sad.

Hermione shrugged. She really didn't know what to answer to that.

"I'm going to stay for a while," Harry said. "Leave the fireplace open, please."

"Can't you Apparate?" she asked, annoyed. He frowned, Mrs. Weasley too, and she shook her head, feeling like it was pointless. "Nevermind."

It was her turn of Apparating them back to Grimmauld Place. She eyed him worriedly. She was afraid of Sirius' possible reactions to Harry and Ron's news. The last thing they needed was for him to regress again. She couldn't allow that. Not when she had seen him talking and smiling like she had never seen since she met him for the first time.

"Did… did Harry tell you that he was going back to France?" she asked, cautiously.

He acknowledged my question with a nod.

She let out a breath in relief. "I didn't know," she admitted. She felt slightly hurt.

He frowned. "He didn't tell you? He told me when he arrived the other day."

She shook her head. "No, but I guess it's comprehensible…"

He snorted. "Why? I don't understand why he wouldn't tell you. Unless he wanted to surprise you... but it's no a very good surprise... is it?"

"I don't think he wanted to surprise me. I think he didn't know how to tell me. I guess I've been a bit hard on him... we've been fighting... a lot, considering we hardly ever fought like this. Not after Hogwarts anyway."

He reached out to hold her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. She looked at his finger drawing small circles on hers and smiled.

After a couple of seconds – that probably seemed faster to Hermione than what had actually been – Sirius took his hand from hers and broke the silence: "Why did you react that way when Ron commented on you liking being in the spotlight?" he asked, curious. "I think he was just joking."

She sighed. "I don't really know. I never intended to look so... competitive, I guess. I never saw that as something bad. But I admit I always felt the... need to answer everything. I was – _am_ – a bit of an alien here..."

"So was it because you're Muggleborn?" he asked. When she raised a questioning eyebrow at him, he shook his head in what seemed amusement. "Don't take it as an insult. It's an innocent question."

"Probably. But I believe it's got more to do with the fact that I was homeschooled up until I had to leave to Hogwarts. There was no one else to answer the questions before me..." She chuckled at the end of her explanation, especially with his surprised expression.

"It's not a common path," she admitted. "But my parents probably already knew there was something... different about me."

He nodded, understanding. "Where are they now?" he asked, genuinely curious. It took her by surprise and for a moment she could only stare at him.

"I mean," he said, clearing his throat. "You don't leave Grimmauld Place often... or is that because you are keeping an eye on me?" he joked.

She paused. She couldn't help but remember the night of her birthday the previous year, when she had told the Weasleys what had happened to her parents. It was a bit ironic that Sirius would end up finding it a year later. She looked attentively at him while pondering. He seemed to make her do that a lot. But it hit her then that if there was someone who would understand her detachment, it would be him. She didn't think his relationship with his parents had ever been good. Of course it was silly of her, if not blatantly stupid, to compare her relationship with her parents, who had always supported her, even when they didn't know exactly what she would be doing, to his horrible progenitors. Nevertheless, of all people, she knew maybe he would understand. None of the Weasleys could, they were the tightest family she had ever known. She actually thought that had been one of the reasons her crush for Ron had never developed into something more mature.

And Harry wouldn't understand either – he had never met his parents. It would be unfair for him that she would ask that sort of understanding for her.

Over the months after she found out about her parents' death, she had avoided thinking about it – and them –, not because their deaths hurt, but because it hurt her not to feel anything. She knew there was something wrong with her – there had to –, but there was nothing else for her to do but wait for her detachment to pass. She was sure it would, eventually. She also suspected that for it to happen, she would have to go to Australia again, but since she still didn't know what she would do once she got there, she was decided to wait a bit.

There were always consequences of the war for everyone; this was hers.

"They died in a car accident..." she finally admitted. She saw his eyes widen with shock. "In Australia. Almost two years ago."

"I'm sorry."

She nodded, not knowing what else to do or say; she never knew in these situations. It was probably one of the only times she blamed her books for not teaching her how to behave in certain situations.

Harry was wrong when he wrote her telling her she was the best at dealing with traumatic experiences. She didn't know how to deal with them at all.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**October, 2000**

Hermione was feeling very anxious.

Sometimes she caught herself biting a nail or tapping her fingers on the desk of the library. When that happened, she chastised herself and changed to another corner of the library, mumbling to herself to stop that idiotic behaviour and do something productive.

She had promised to leave the problems for the Ministry to solve. It was the best of ideas, truly, she knew that, but she couldn't help being interested about it. She had been responsible for part of what had happened. She wanted – _needed_– to know what was being discussed in the meeting. She couldn't wait for Harry and Sirius to return. She would beg them to tell her, if necessary. Unless, for some reason, they had had to sworn secrecy.

She idly contemplated if she had been replaced by another intern or if the team was the same. She wondered who had been chosen to a longer apprenticeship in the Department of Mysteries. She sighed; she guessed it really wasn't any of her business anymore. She was a simple civilian now. She walked to the kitchen, where she normally read the newspapers, and tried once again to find something that interested her. There were a couple of job offers, but she knew that the ones she was interested in weren't normally found in newspapers. There was a scarce offer of apprenticeships in specific areas of Magic. When she checked the last of the newspapers of the small pile she thought that she should reconsider Muggle jobs. But for that she probably should attend a Muggle university first, and that thought was a bit depressing.

She wasn't sure she could face the Muggle world – their world – without them.

She felt herself being washed by the usual numbness she always felt when she thought about her parents. She felt so guilty. The whole situation seemed so distant, as if it had happened so many years ago and was pointless to even think about it. It had been two years ago. Only that and it seemed that it had been so long ago. Guilt was the only thing she could feel about the whole situation. She knew she had never been very close to her parents, despite being an only child, but she never thought that the Magical world would create such an abyss between them whose end was that: numbness, detachment, apathy and guilt and resentment, possibly in that order. A vicious circle.

She sighed and decided. She would gather her Gryffindor courage and go to Australia. Soon. It had to be.

She went to the library again, picked a book and tried to start reading it. After a couple of minutes, a noise coming from the fireplace awoke her from her thoughts. She realised she hadn't read a line of the book on her lap. Actually, she didn't even remember the title. She raised from the settee and stared at the fireplace expectantly. When she saw the green flames her heart skipped a beat. Then, what she could only understand as the heart's need to compensate for skipping a beat, it started beating faster. Was that only because of what news they might possibly bring? Her mind made her the favour of making her remember the night of Ron and Harry's dinner, of Sirius' fragrance, of how he had caressed her hand soothingly...

But how ridiculous. Of all the things that could happen to her, this was the last she could have ever expected, or desired; the last thing she needed. It was really idiotic of her to have gotten so used to his presence at Grimmauld Place.

Sirius came first. He looked around to the library until he found her sitting in a corner, with a book on her lap. He smiled at her and stepped aside, to give room to Harry arrive safely.

"You're back!" Hermione said before she could control herself.

Both Harry and Sirius chuckled, taking the dust off their coats with their respective wands – probably not to make Hermione mad at them. Surprisingly, Harry chuckled in a more controlled, reserved way than Sirius. For some silly reason none of them could exactly understand, Harry and Hermione hadn't talked normally to each other since he went to France.

She hesitated after her outburst. "Can you... can you tell me what was it about?"

Sirius and Harry shared a look, one that Hermione couldn't decipher, so she immediately, awkwardly, added: "You don't have to, of course. It's just that-"

"It's okay, Hermione," Sirius said, shaking his head in amusement. "Of course we can tell you.

"Actually, I have to meet Ginny," Harry announced, hesitantly. "I want to spend some time with her before going back to France."

Hermione nodded, but since she didn't know when she'd be seeing him again – if that night or days after – she just said: "Bye."

When he was gone, Hermione walked towards the fireplace and cast a spell to clean the dust.

"This fireplace must be locked."

Sirius chuckled. "It was actually my idea to travel to this one. I thought you would be here. Save energy," he said with a grin.

She shook her head, smiling; he was using the same words she had used before the dinner at The Burrow. The crime, as she considered it, was forgiven and forgotten. She had other matters to worry about, namely her insides, that seemed to be melting. He had smiled again at her, in _that _way. Dare she hope he was starting to feel integrated again? There, with her? Dare she hope for more? She quickly hid those thoughts in a corner of her brain.

"Do you still take calming Draughts and Dreamless Potions?" she needed to know. She feared the answer – any answer, actually– be it an affirmative or a negative reply.

He frowned, not expecting that question, lines marking his forehead. "Rarely now," he answered, a bitter smile marring his face. "It's not as hard anymore. And it was never as hard as... Azkaban. I have the advantage of being innocent this time."

"You were innocent then too," she said, before he could add anything else.

He barely let her finish, and said: "Let's not discuss it, or you'll find that it's going to be hard to convince me otherwise when it comes to that specific subject."

"Okay," she granted. "Tell me about the meeting."

The first thing she learned was that the Arc was going to be destroyed. The Ministry of Magic was already negotiating with the goblins to see that the Arc would never work again for its original purpose.

He told her that during the months of recovery one of the people who returned had tried to commit suicide. They didn't know who it was, and no one knew at the time that that happened because they had been afraid it would set a chain reaction, and, unintentionally, influence the others.

That person had wanted to go into the Veil again. The person had actually tried to run away from St. Mungos, to try to enter the Ministry of Magic, but the Mediwizards were able to stop him before he left the building.

"But... why?" she exclaimed, a bit shocked. "What would be the point of returning, then?"

Then, according to Sirius, emerged the idea of returning some of the people to their own time. The option was even discussed with Sluier, and he had agreed that that should be a good option, but not for him.

"Because there's nothing for him in his time..." Hermione commented sadly. "Sluier lost the only thing he loved in his time. No wonder he has no intentions of returning..."

But time wasn't very well understood, not by Muggles, and definitely not by Magical folk, despite the clear advantage of the latter. The Unspeakables working in the Time Room were going to analyse the situation. Everyone could apply, but it was going to be very restricted. They were not even sure if they would carry on that option. They were supposed to decide until the end of the year. Everything was supposed to change with the new year ahead.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. It was a very good, very appealing idea. She couldn't imagine what was going on Sirius' head about that final matter, so she decided to question him, even if she sounded hesitant:

"What do you think of that?"

"I think it's great, but I'm sure that, even if I wanted, I wouldn't be authorised. The time I lived in wasn't the most stable one... as you know, of course," he said, sitting in the settee Hermione had occupied minutes – or was it hours? – earlier.

She stood there, looking at him curiously, cautiously. "You said _even if I wanted_. Don't you want it?"

He looked up at her from his seat. "This is the second time I'm given the chance to live. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Hermione felt her heart being squeezed, but in a good way, in a relieved way. She actually couldn't control herself, and despite the serious, careful tone of the conversation, she couldn't help but laugh a little, lightly.

"You laugh," he said, shaking his head between amusement and seriousness, "but I have no idea what I'm going to do with my life."

She laughed again. "That makes two of us."

**

* * *

**

**November, 2000**

Hermione was starting to love the typical cold and often rainy weather in London simply because it allowed her and Sirius to walk without being afraid of being approached by strangers. Especially because the Ministry still hadn't found the person who had sent the photograph and some of the facts of the story to the magical newspapers. Whoever had done had made sure he or she wouldn't be caught. However, for their protection, the people who were involved in the case were now mandatorily under a vow.

They were almost reaching their destination. They were supposed to meet Harry and Ginny for lunch. With Ginny's help everything was going back to normal between Hermione and Harry and Sirius was there to support them both too.

"Are you still trying to find a job?" Sirius asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes.

"Yes," then she looked at him, jokingly sent him a disappointed look and added: "_Of__course_."

"I honestly have no idea what I'm going to do once you find a job."

His admittance made Hermione stop on her tracks. He avoided her eyes. Instead he seemed to be looking at something behind her. She turned her head, just to make sure there was nothing wrong behind her. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary, so she turned to face him again.

"I..." she felt like she as going to stammer, so she cleared her throat. "Why?" her curiosity took the best of her.

He took some time to answer. "I'm used to your presence." He shrugged, as if he had said something obvious.

Her heart did that revolting thing: it skipped a beat, and then started beating faster.

The restaurant was only a couple of steps away, so they started walking slower. He then added: "You could just create your own business."

She stopped again. "I didn't... consider that... actually," she admitted. "See what not working does to me? I never thought of that. What a useless brain!"

He chuckled and grabbed her arm to make her walk again. "You probably just had other things on your mind," he said.

She blushed at that. She immediately prayed he didn't notice it. Then she realised that she always had the excuse of the weather. Bless the weather, once again.

"Hermione!"

Both Hermione and Sirius turned to the door of the restaurant. Ginny was waving at them, so they started walking faster.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 2****4**

**December, 2000**

Christmas had been a bit hectic. It was the first Christmas like that since the war. Hermione tried not to be left alone with anyone but Sirius, because she was a bit afraid they would talk about her parents. She had helped with the cooking and setting the table and then Mrs. Weasley expelled Hermione from the kitchen to prevent her from helping her to clean the dining room and kitchen. Hermione found herself feeling a bit suffocated in the sitting room and went to the veranda, to get a bit of air.

She didn't know when it had happened, but she didn't like Christmas like before. She didn't know if it had been because of the War, or because of her parents, or because of herself; she felt out of place. She had enough time to think about it, and she realised it had been the war, because it had changed everything around her: her family, the Weasleys, herself… _Time, I just need time_, she thought to herself. Time would solve everything.

"What's wrong?"

She turned quickly towards the voice, startled, "Sirius," she said, when she saw him by the door.

He raised an eyebrow. "You look surprised. You should have known that I'd follow you," he said, and chuckled a bit to himself. "I don't like being alone in there."

She bit back a smile. "There are more than ten people inside, Sirius."

"And none of them is you."

Her breath got stuck on her throat and her heart did that thing again.

He cleared his throat. "I only mean that it's good to have someone you trust near."

"Harry isn't there?" she asked, mentally thanking him for talking, otherwise she would have only been able to offer him an awkward silence.

"Last time I saw him he was talking with Bill and Charlie."

She nodded and turned to the garden again, leaning and resting her arms on the wooden support of the veranda.

He walked and imitated her gestures. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes and said, in a soft murmur: "You didn't answer my question."

She chuckled, with a sad tone.

"I was just thinking about my life..." she glanced at him, and then looked back at the garden, "and how different it would be if I had never received a letter from Hogwarts."

They were silent for a couple of seconds – maybe even minutes –, until Hermione sighed profoundly and admitted, shaking her head at the same time as if she thought she was only being silly:

"Sometimes I wish I had never gone to Hogwarts... If—if my magical ability hadn't been developed, it would have eventually faded... not completely, of course, but enough to be normal… Everything would be so much easier."

She looked at him. She was glad he wasn't looking back at her, because she was a bit afraid of what he was thinking of her.

"And the worst of all – and I think you can sympathise with me on this... even if only a little – is that I... I feel as if there's nothing else for me here… besides Harry, the Weasleys and… and you."

At that he did turn his head to her. His shocked expression surprised her. For a second she thought how amusing they might seem, looking at each other with similar facial expressions, but she quickly returned her attention to the matter. He looked away, and when he turned to her again his face was impassive.

"I already sent my answer to Geheim," he said.

Hermione's heart tried to leap into her throat. She knew he was waiting for her to say something, but it took her a while, because she realised that only Sirius had the – she didn't know... talent? ability? power? Power. Yes, that would do... – power of making her heart do all sorts of strange things. This one was new; she could only assume that it was because she dreaded his next words and, at the same time, she couldn't wait to hear them.

"What did you say?" she finally asked.

"What did you want me to say?"

"You know."

"I would like to hear it from you."

She looked at everything around them except his face, his eyes, particularly. When she gathered her courage she sighed deeply and admitted:

"I want... I mean... I would-I would miss you."

"Won't you?" he immediately asked.

"What?" she questioned, confused.

"Just because I didn't apply to a Time Turner doesn't mean I'm going to stay here."

She panicked. "What are you talking about?"

"Sometimes..." he hesitated. "Sometimes I think it would be better to leave to some place no one knew about me. Maybe even outside the Magical community."

She couldn't utter a word. It was as if she had forgotten how to speak. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't _say _them.

He frowned at her apparent lack of response and added: "It worked while I was in the hiding after I escaped Azkaban." He dared smile at her, a sad smile. "And I'll give you one less reason for you to stay."

Se bit her lip, not knowing what to say. Since he didn't say anything else, they remained in silence, until a couple of minutes later, when Harry came looking for them.

"I've been looking for you two," he said. He looked really tired, but happy. "I think we should go to Grimmauld Place. They're all starting to look sleepy."

Hermione looked at her watch and realised, surprised, that it was three in the morning. "Of course," she said, walking quickly towards the sitting room to get her cloak and thank Mrs. and Mr. Weasley. Sirius and Harry took a bit longer; she suspected it was so Sirius wouldn't stay too much long to say goodbye, or maybe they were talking. In the end, she actually was the last one to arrive at Grimmauld Place because she had wanted to apologise for keeping them until such hours.

Harry was with his back to her, so she took the opportunity to look at Sirius and tried to telepathically ask him to stay for a couple of seconds. He only frowned at her in confusion, which, she thought, worked too, since he would want to know what was that about. However, she hadn't expected that he would leave to his bedroom. Harry followed him upstairs so she quickly took her cloak and followed their steps. By the time they reached the second floor, Hermione had decided to ignore what she was going to say to Sirius, and if he asked, she would say she had forgotten. After Harry said goodbye and entered in his room, Sirius turned on the lights of the next couple of stairs with his wand. When they reached her bedroom he wished her a goodnight and started walking towards the last row of stairs. She stared at his back for a while and when he reached the stairs that lead to the fourth and last floor of the house, she called his name. He stopped and slowly turned around to look at her.

She swallowed the knot in her throat. "If you leave..." _take me with you_, she wanted to have said, "warn me," she finished, lamely. She smiled at him, trying to conceal what she really felt.

Without waiting for him to reply, she closed the door of her bedroom and rested against it for a while. She felt like the whole situation was ridiculous. But she didn't regret asking him to warn her. She couldn't imagine how out of place he must feel. She did too, but in a completely different way. The idea of running away was starting to sound dangerously appealing.

Hermione stepped towards the bed and it was then that it hit her. For some reason she couldn't explain – because nothing in particular had trigged that memory – she was hit with the realisation that she was never going to have her wish granted, at least not the wish that the Mirror of Erised had showed her as her deepest wish. Unless it changed, she would never have it. Just like Harry. It was almost the same as Harry, actually. Although, she wondered if his deepest desire was still the same. She needed to know, because, if it wasn't, she could hope.

She opened the door of her bedroom and walked downstairs, making as little sound as possible. She opened Harry's bedroom's door and whispered his name. It took a couple of seconds, but eventually he woke up.

"What's wrong?" he asked, alarmed, putting on his glasses and reaching out to grab his wand.

"Nothing, nothing," she quickly calmed him. "May I come in?"

"Of course."

"It's just a question, really."

He frowned. "Okay..."

"Do you remember when you… saw the Mirror of Erised?"

"Wh-what?" he asked, perplexed. "Yes, of course. Why?"

"I was just wondering if... if your deepest wish can change."

He kept frowning at her.

"I don't know."

"Do you think your deepest wish has changed?" she tried.

He yawned. "I don't know... I don't know."

"Ok... sorry for disturbing you," she murmured and sighed, already regretting have woken him up for her silly thoughts. "Good night."

She was about to close the door when she heard him snort in amusement. "But I'm sure Ron's wish changed," he said, succumbing to sleep.

That brought a smile to her face.

"Hopefully," she murmured.

On the way back to her bedroom Hermione thought that it wouldn't be that bad if she asked Headmaster McGonagall to visit Hogwarts again and see what the mirror held for her, but by the time she was already in her bed she decided against it. She remembered that Dumbledore had told Harry that the Mirror doesn't really show the truth or knowledge. She would not be driven mad because of a Mirror. She knew that what the Mirror of Erised had reflected as her deepest desire was impossible. Just before closing her eyes Hermione decided she would go to Australia; it was time to face reality: she would never have her parents next to her again.

* * *

Harry and Ron had already parted to France. They had both come to Grimmauld Place to say goodbye to Sirius and Hermione personally.

She knew that, the moment they left Grimmauld Place, they would be headed to France, so she had to act quickly. She also knew Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would try to convince her to stay until at least after the New Year's Eve, but she needed to go now. If she didn't leave, it would be hard to convince herself again.

She cast a last cleaning spell on the fireplace, glaring at the spot where Ron had been. Then she went to her room and started to pack the few things she had. She would put only what she knew she would need in the first two days in a bag and take it with her, the rest would go in boxes and would arrive there in two days. She had already written the letters: one to Harry and Ron, one to the Weasleys, and another one for Sirius. She wanted to talk to him in person, but she wasn't sure she would be brave enough, so she had the letter as a last resort. She still needed to pack her clothes, but since she didn't have many, she would do it while she waited for the owls. She went downstairs to make a Floo call to the Owlery in Diagon Alley. She would need at least eight owls: two for each of her three boxes, one that would take a letter to the Burrow and the last one that would fly to France.

She was about to finish packing her clothes when she heard from the door:

"What are you doing?" Sirius asked. She looked up. He seemed confused and there was a hint of something more. Hurt? No, not that. Fear? She wasn't sure. He looked around the room, at the boxes, and then at her again, with the same expression on his face.

"Packing," she said.

He walked to her and grabbed her wrists. "I can see that. What I want to know is _why_."

She raised an eyebrow and decided to mock him a little bit, only because she would have to tell him the truth eventually, but still didn't know exactly how she would do it. The letter was pointless now. "Then you should have asked: _why are you packing, Hermione_?"

He frowned and let go of her wrists, as if they had burnt his hands.

"I'll amuse you, sweetheart. _Why_ are you packing, Hermione?"

She had resumed packing, but stopped again to look at him for a moment. She had been amused by how he had imitated her tone, but she was completely serious when she turned her eyes to him to say: "I'm leaving."

By the looked of it, she seemed more shocked than he. Had he expected this? They had talked about how would it be like leaving, but she had never been serious; not until that day.

"Where?" he asked simply.

"Australia."

He nodded, as if he had also been expecting that answer. "Does anyone know about this?"

"I'm waiting for the owls. I'll let Harry and Ron know. Thankfully they are going to be busy in the next hours, so they won't see it for maybe a day if I'm lucky. The Weasleys will know by tonight, I think . That's why I must be quick," she said, grabbing the last items of clothing and putting them in another bag. "Not that I have a lot of things to pack..." she mumbled to herself.

"Why Australia?"

She frowned at his question. He knew about her parents, so his inquiry must mean something else.

"Pending issues that must be faced as soon as possible."

"Your parents," he stated, his face serious. She looked at him and saw from his face that he expected a confirmation from her. It took a while for her to answer. Sighing, she said: "Yes, my parents."

"I'm going with you."

Silence.

Her heart skipped a beat. _I'm going with you._

"_What_?"

"I'm going with you."

"You're not serious."

"I'm Sirius," he flashed a smile at her when she rolled her eyes and decided to ignore that last comment.

"You don't have time to pack-"

"I don't need to pack anything."

"You are crazy," she said, feeling as if her heart was beating more and more rapidly.

He shrugged. "Fine, maybe I'll pack a couple of things..."

"Why?" she asked, utterly amazed. "Why do you want to go with me?"

"I just do."

* * *

They were in Arthur street. It had been one year and five months since Hermione had been there for the last time. She hadn't seen the inside of the house then. And she had given Sirius the key, just in case she suddenly gave up and ran away.

"You know... I think I saw him," she said, walking next to Sirius.

"Who?"

"Sluier. Twice, I think. He interrupted a meeting I was havig with Geheim. I don't know why I only thought of it now..."

"I saw him." Sirius said. "Once. When I went to the common room to pick a book. I didn't stay there for long, and we didn't talk."

"Tall, thin, white hair, beard and the bluest eyes you've ever seen?" she asked.

He chuckled at the last characteristic and shrugged. "I guess."

They were almost reaching the house when someone called Hermione's name. Hermione's eyebrows raised in surprise. It was Mrs. White, the woman who had told her about her parents. She didn't know exactly how it happened, but one second Mrs. White was asking how she was doing and in the other she was dragging both Sirius and Hermione to her house to drink a cup of coffee. They didn't have any excuse to refuse her invitation, so they accepted, warning her that they had a lot to do so they couldn't stay for long. Mrs. White asked her husband to go get two cups of coffee to the guests and then guided them to the living room, where they sat.

"We haven't seen you in such a long time," Mrs. White said to Hermione.

"One year and five months, to be exact," Hermione said, with a small smile. "I am surprised you remembered me."

Mrs. White waved her hadn dismissively, "I don't forget a face, dear."

"These are interesting," Hermione heard Sirius say. She looked at the table where she found a box with crystals and small stones in it. She frowned a bit, seeming to recognise some of them, but it wasn't that strange to find Muggles with an interest in magical things.

"Yes, some of them are quite hard to find, even with excellet apotheacaries like the ones we have. They are quite useful for spells too and-" Mrs. White stopped abruptly. "Oh dear..." she murmured. "I mean, only if you believe in those kind of things, of course," she said, laughing nervously.

Hermione frowned in confusion and turned to Sirius to see if he was as bemused as her. To her surprise she saw a knowing smile on his face.

"We do," he simply said.

"I beg your pardon?" Mrs. White said, looking at him with what was probably the same perplexed expression Hermione had.

"We know of those magical properties."

The woman still had the same expression. Hermione, on the other hand, knew exactly what Sirius was really talking about. But it wasn't possoble, was it? Hermione looked at her host skeptically. She decided to trust Sirius and commented: "There is a lovely shop that sells all types of crystals and rocks in Diagon Alley..."

The woman went visibly pale.

"Oh my..." she murmured to herself. "Oh my... John! John!"

Mr. White just happened to come out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee.

"There's no need to shout," he said, smilling at his wife and handing Hermione and Sirius the cups.

"I believe," she glanced at them hesitantly for a second, but seemed to ignore her doubts and continued, "I believe Mr. Black and Ms. Granger will be able to tell you all about Diagon Alley!"

Mr. White's eyes almost popped out. "In London?"

His wife giggled. "Of course in London! Where else in the world could you find Diagon Alley?"

Sirius and Hermione only shared a couple of things with Mr. and Mrs. White, because they told them they would have to see it with their own eyes, so it didn't take long for them to find themselves walking towards her parents house. When they reached the door, Hermione waited for Sirius to open, but he didn't. Instead, he asked: "Do you remember that article the Daily Prophet published that you found distasteful?"

"You'll have to be more specific," she retorted dryly.

He snorted. "Fair enough. The one about the supposed outbreak of people resurrecting at the Minstry."

"Ah, yes," she said, shaking her head at the idiocy of the Daily Prophet. "How could I forget..."

"Well, you see..." he said, smilling, at the same time he inserted the key in the hole.

"What?"

"It _was_. Kind of," he said, looking intently at her.

She frowned at first, but when she understood she laughed, feeling strangely warm inside.

"Yes... I guess. Kind of..." she smiled up at him. He grabbed her hand and walked inside the house with her. She knew he was going to be there for her for whatever happened once she faced her demons. She murmured, a bit in awe: "For me too."

_The End_

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* * *

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**A/N:** This isn't actually the ending I first planned, but since I started this story in 2009, it's normal that I changed my mind. I hope you enjoyed it. If you have some time, please leave me a comment with your thoughts. :)

(forgive any mistakes; I normally use Microsoft Office Word, but I had a problem with my laptop, so I have to install everything again. :))


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